The Thief
by endlessmuse
Summary: OutlawQueen fic. Take another journey through a different variation of Season Four and Five of Once Upon a Time. If you were disappointed with A&E's shallow and lackluster plots, perhaps you'll find what you're looking for here. Robin's Perspective. Yes, it's all about Robin this time. Sex, thievery and true love found within. Oh, and of course, a good dose of heartache.
1. Once Upon a Time

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, readers! As stated in the summary, this is an OutlawQueen fic. If you don't ship that, I highly suggest you find another fic to read. Though I'm sure there are plenty of other variations of this same sort of theme, this is my iteration. Season Four will be mostly the same, save written from Robin's perspective and with its own Robin spin. He lacked a great deal in the last two seasons, so this is my humble attempt to give him the spotlight he deserves. His lore I have taken from the show, as well as some of the varying Robin Hood stories out there, along with my own spin on them. After Season Four, things become quite AU, since I was not pleased at all with the Arthur and Underworld plot. Expect heartbreak, sex, action, a tad bit of gore, and one of the greatest love stories ever told! Enjoy.**

* * *

"And it isn't as though I can just turn them off," Robin continued, his body stretched across the chaise in Dr. Hopper's office. His gaze was focused on the ceiling—a boring white that wasn't distracting him nearly as much as he wished it would. "That would make this entire thing so bloody easy. She's my soulmate. I'm always going to feel something towards her, aren't I?" his gaze moved briefly to Dr. Hopper, who was opening his mouth to speak, but Robin continued before he could. "And my wife . . . Marian . . . she's been dead for . . . I don't even know how long. I've been told thirty or so years have passed in truth. It certainly felt that long, but neither myself nor Roland have the years to prove it. Regardless of the actual count, it's been some time since she was alive. I mourned her—I grieved her a great deal. Then I moved on. For my son's sake."

Robin slowly pushed himself up, sitting upright on the chaise. "I didn't intend on falling for Regina. Or . . . maybe I did. I don't . . . I don't know," he scratched his head, taking a moment to run his fingers through his hair. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. I have feelings for her . . . and now my wife has returned from the dead. What do I do, Doctor?" he asked, looking at Dr. Hopper with a hopeful expression.

Marian's reemergence into his life had been both a blessing and a nightmare. He had loved that woman. They had built something wonderful together. Roland was able to meet his mother. Everything he was, he owed to her . . . but why now? He was _happy._ Though Regina and himself had only been going out for a few weeks, he felt more comfortable and at ease with her than anyone else. She was beautiful, funny, witty beyond measure, and she was so desperately sad that it made him ache. It seemed embedded into the very pupils of her eyes. Was it wrong that he had wanted to make it disappear? That he had wanted to make her smile instead?

"I'm not sure what help I can offer on this matter," Dr. Hopper said finally, removing his large glasses and cleaning them with a handkerchief. Robin watched his hands, feeling his hope fizzle out. It was a wild shot, he knew, coming to Dr. Hopper for aid. In truth, he wasn't even sure what Dr. Hopper did. Killian had tried to explain that when one was having a difficult time processing something, one talked to a psychiatrist—like Dr. Hopper. After speaking with him, all of one's problems was supposed to go away. Killian had suggested just drinking until the problem went away, but Robin would kill himself with alcohol poisoning before that ever happened—though the thought of being blindingly drunk wasn't the worst idea.

"I think you need to speak with both of them," Dr. Hopper added. "But first you need to consult your heart. There's going to be pain, regardless. This isn't a situation where no one gets hurt. But I can't suggest who you should run to. That isn't what I do, and I think it would be inappropriate. Only you can choose."

Robin bit his lip. "But it isn't a choice. I'm married. Technically. I think. She died, so perhaps not, but in her . . . perspective . . . she never died, so we're still married." Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. Why him? He was a simple man. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Drink on Saturdays. Go to Friar Tuck's sermons on Sunday. He wasn't built for this sort of dilemma.

"Now," Dr. Hopper cleared his throat. "There is the matter of the _bill._ If you'd like I can send it to your address . . .?"

He frowned at that. He was being charged? He thought this talking thing was free. If he had to pay for it, he'd have just spoken to Killian. There was a general lack of money in his pockets. Being a thief with a code meant he was basically penniless. Robin forced a smile on his lips and stood. "Yes. Address it to me. Storybrooke Forest." He took a step towards the door. "Forty-Seven Trees In." He opened the door. "Fifth Tree on the Left." Then he slipped away before Archie could stop him. He needed to see Marian . . .

* * *

 _There it was. A strong stallion that would fetch him a pretty price. He had two horses already at camp, but this one was perfect to sell at the local market. It was a proper workhorse—young and strong. The only problem? It was already owned. But that mattered little to a thief like himself. Robin stopped watching the barn and hid behind the large tree once more. The farm was situated just outside of the forest that he and his mates had held themselves up in for the time being. It was isolated and small—only a single family lived inside the hut beside the barn. Easy pickings._

 _So easy, in fact, that Robin had told his mates that he'd do the job alone. Now that the moon was high in the sky, it was time to strike. Crouching, he stole past the fields, keeping low. One eye was on the quiet hut, the other on his target—the barn. Reaching the large door, he grabbed his dagger and started to pick at the padlock. His breathing was kept steady, his hands even steadier. The dagger pulled and pressed until he felt something give. There was a click, and the lock snapped open. Robin removed it, and then lifted the heavy wooden beam up off of the door._

 _Pulling it open, he saw his prize standing in his stable—innocent and curious. Robin approached the stallion gently, lightly stroking his muzzle and snout. The last thing he needed was for the horse to buck him off mid-escape. His palms ran over the short fur, feeling the strong muscle underneath. "Yes, you're going to fetch me a fine penny, aren't you?" Robin murmured, patting the horse. He unlocked the stable door, then led the horse out. "Come on, mate. Nice and easy," he cooed._

 _Mounting the horse, he put on a bridle but otherwise rode the horse bareback. Kicking his heels into the horse's flanks, he urged his prize into motion. The horse charged forward out of the barn, his hooves thundering on the ground, and they disappeared into the forest. Robin guided the horse through concealed deer paths until he reached his camp. "Gentlemen!" he called, sliding off the horse with a flourish and bow._

" _Ha! Robin's back!" Little John announced in a cheerful bellow._

" _Damn it. You cost me two silvers," Friar Tuck grumbled, tossing them over to Alan-a-Dale, who grinned happily._

" _You bet against me, Friar? I'm wounded. That makes me think God isn't on my side," Robin teased their resident drunken member of the clergy. Tuck grunted at that, reaching for another bottle of wine. "Isn't it against your clerical orders to gamble, anyway?"_

" _Well, I need something to repent on Sunday, don't I?" Tuck replied with a grin._

 _Robin chuckled and tied the horse up alongside the others. "We'll head to the market in the morning and see what price we can haggle. I expect nothing less than three hundred gold." Their eyes glimmered at that. Ah, the sweet promise of gold. It could lift anyone's spirits. Speaking of lifting spirits, Robin grabbed Tuck's bottle of wine from him, plopping down beside him and shared the rich vintage. Alan-a-Dale, quite spurred on by the promise of more wealth, entered into a bracing, cheerful song—one the rest of the men started to join in on half-way through. Such was how the night continued, until one-by-one, they passed out from drink around the campfire._

* * *

Marian was back at their camp. Robin found her trimming Roland's hair when he entered its boundaries. "Mommy is cutting my hair!" Roland announced with a bright grin. Robin smiled lightly at his son. At least someone was happy in this mess.

"Really, Robin. Were you planning on letting his hair grow long enough to braid?" Marian teased, snipping away lightly.

Robin smirked lightly, amused. "I suppose it was getting a bit long. It's been one adventure after the other here. I barely had time to bathe him, let alone trim his hair. This is the first break from impending doom since we've arrived." He crouched in front of his son and kissed his cheek. Straightening, he met Marian's eye, and his smile faltered for a moment. It warmed him to see her. He remembered that smile—remembered how it made him feel. But that was the problem. It was a memory he reacted to, not the smile itself. Yet, he knew what his duty and honor called upon him to do.

"We need to talk, Marian," he said, gesturing for him to join him once she was finished.

"Of course. Almost finished." As Marian tidied up Roland's hair, Robin looked out on the rest of his camp. The Merry Men seemed as awkward as he felt. True, they were not dating Regina as he had been, but their loyalty was to him. Until he made a decision, they didn't know where to plant their flag. Though he had a feeling he knew which side they were hoping for. Marian had been the one to stich up their wounds and break their fevers when they got sick. She had been a mother to them all. When she had died, they all mourned. This was for them as much as it was for Marian.

Speaking of, she joined him then, smiling patiently at him. Robin returned the smile and took her hand, leading her away from the camp and into the forest. "I did some thinking," he began.

"Dangerous work for you," Marian smirked.

Robin smiled wider, though he felt equal parts pain. How was he going to live like this? Feeling guilty every time he appreciated her humor? Feeling like it was a lie? But he knew what he needed to do. "You're my wife," he said, stopping and taking her other hand in his. He looked into her eyes. How many times had he confessed his love as he looked into those eyes? He'd meant it once. If he tried . . . really tried . . . perhaps he could do it again. "My duty is to you. I'm not leaving your side."

Marian's smile grew, but her grip on his hands were tight. "Are you . . . sure? I know it can't be easy."

Robin nodded, smoothing his expression into one of certainty. No doubt could surface for his answer—in his expression or his heart. "I'm sure. Roland has his mother again. And I have my wife. It may take some time, of course, but I know we'll be a happy family again." Why did it feel so hollow in his heart to say that? Marian smiled and hugged him. His arms wrapped around her as well. Her weight and frame was familiar. The scent of her hair even more so. It hurt as much as it soothed to hold her.

"ROBIN!" Marian suddenly cried out, pulling back and tugging him with her.

"What?" Robin asked, turning to see what she saw . . . and found himself staring at a massive snow giant. It was armored in ice and was marching right towards them. "Marian, run! Back to the camp!" Robin urged her along, his heart racing as the snow monster tore after them. Of all the bloody times he didn't have his bow. They raced back to the camp, where Robin immediately started shouting. "Form up! We have incoming! Nock your arrows!" Robin grabbed his own bow and quiver and immediately nocked an arrow.

The snow giant came crashing through the trees, splitting them in two in its wake. Robin released his arrow, aiming for the snow giant's eye. His aim was true, his arrow embedding deep into the giant's socket. It didn't even phase the beast. Robin watched with horror, as the snow giant merely plucked it out and continued charging forward. It seemed intent on Marian. Realizing this, Robin shouted over to her, "Marian, get back!"

Just then, a poof of purple smoke appeared, Regina emerging. Robin watched in amazement as she formed a large fireball in her hands and hurled it at the snow giant. It went right through him, though it left a gaping hole. The snow giant paused at this, looking down. "Not today, Frosty," Regina said, and then shot an inferno at the monster. It engulfed the snow giant, making it melt into nothing more than a large puddle. Robin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Regina, thank-," he turned to thank her, but she had already poofed away. The words fell silent in his throat, and his lips pressed into a line instead. She had saved them—saved Marian, more importantly. She never ceased to astound him.

* * *

 _The taut sound of a string being pulled woke him from his sleep. Robin opened his eyes to find an arrow pointing directly at his forehead. He started and held up his hands. Looking past the arrow, he saw the bow was held by a young woman—an angry young woman. Her hair was black and silken. Her skin a rich and warm brown. Her eyes, however, were what held his gaze. They were bright and full of hate. "How dare you?" she said in a sharp whisper. Robin was unable to say anything, entirely at a loss._

" _My parents are good people. My family is good and hard-working. We're not rich. We're not vain. We do our work and thank God that we have enough to eat through the winter. Who are you to rid my family of their sole means of making any money?" Robin blinked. The woman nodded to the horse. "That horse plows our fields. My father is old. He can't plow enough anymore. Without our horse, we don't sell, we don't eat. So, who are you to decide if we starve? What harm have we ever done to you?" She lowered her bow. "You disgust me. A man who would steal from the poor and deprived. You have no honor. When you stand before God—rich from your thefts—beside me—poor, but honorable—who do you think He'll allow through His gates?" She shouldered her bow, giving him one last look of loathing._

 _Robin could only watch as she mounted the horse he had stolen from earlier. How had she found him? He had been careful. Stunned, he could only watch her ride off with her horse. Instead of feeling annoyed at having lost a profit, he felt . . . foolish. Scolded. Her words reverberated in his mind. Who did he think he was? He hadn't known her family was that poorly off. Were the others as bad off? Had he indirectly killed them? Through starvation or other means? How much damage had he done to the innocent?_

 _He lay awake that night, unable to return to sleep. Beside him, his men lay sleeping off their drunken stupors, entirely unaware of their midnight visitor. Robin fretted, the shame festering in his heart. His gaze traveled upward to the shining stars. He wasn't the most religious man out there. After fighting in the Crusades, it had made him lose his faith more than bolster it. But the woman's words struck a chord within him. What he was doing was wrong . . . More than that, it was childish. His father would have whipped him from one side of the country to the other if he knew what his son had amounted to._

 _It put his life into question. Robin remembered when he had been a boy full of bright ideas and plans. He was going to become a knight and help the poor and needy. A defender of the innocent. Or he was going to start his own farm in a countryside far from England and live quietly. It really had been one or the either. What it wasn't going to be was what his father wanted—an Earl. The last thing Robin had ever wanted was to follow in his father's footsteps and take over the estate. How he wished he could take that back now . . ._

 _When the first morning light appeared in the sky, he rose—his decision made. It was time for a change. This wasn't a life he was proud of . . . and he wanted to be proud. Robin took the last remaining horses and rode back to the farm. The woman's father was already in the fields. Robin's heart ached to see him—grey and withering. He would not have survived long doing the fieldwork without a horse. Fresh shame pierced through him. The older man looked up questioningly as Robin rode up._

" _Hello there, sir," the man greeted him. "What can I do for you?"_

 _Robin dismounted and held the reins to the man. "You can accept my gift. Two horses. Use them however you wish."_

 _The man's eyes widened at that. "What? Why would you bless me in such a way, kind sir?"_

 _Robin caught sight of the young woman. She was leading the previously stolen horse towards the field. She frowned when she saw Robin, but she said nothing. So, she hadn't told her father about the horse's brief disappearance last night either. "I was visited by an angel in the night," he told the man, turning his gaze back to him. "She whispered to me that I had too much . . . and it was my duty to share with those who were not as fortunate as I."_

" _Well, God bless you, sir. Please, stay for breakfast! My wife should be finished with it soon!" the man urged._

 _Robin smiled politely and was about to decline when the young woman joined them. "Yes," she said. "Please. Stay for breakfast." Robin looked at her in surprise._

" _If it would please you, milady," he replied, bowing his head respectfully. "Robin of Locksley," he extended his hand to her._

" _Marian," she returned, and she fit her hand with his own. Robin pressed a kiss upon her knuckles, and the smile it invoked on her lips went straight to his heart._

" _Well, Marian. It is an absolute pleasure and honor to meet you."_

* * *

He stood in front of her door—hesitating. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. Hell, it was a conversation he never thought he ever would have. Taking a breath, he finally rang her bell, wincing as he did so. The door opened a few seconds later, Regina greeting him with a look of surprise. "Robin. I wasn't expecting you."

The nervous look in her eyes ripped him to pieces. Robin squared himself. "Can I talk to you?" he asked her quietly. The look deadened into cold acceptance. She already knew what he was going to say. But she nodded all the same and opened the door wider for him to let him pass. Robin removed his boots, recalling all too well her dislike for tracking mud into her pristine home. She gestured him into the living room where they had spent a rather happy evening once drinking wine and making s'mores in her fireplace. And kissing. Bloody hell, he loved kissing her . . .

"So," Regina said, breaking through his thoughts. She sat herself down on the edge of her loveseat. Robin appreciated the sight of her for a moment. She was dressed in a light grey business suit. Mayor-wear. He'd been around long enough to understand her trends for profession and for play. It hugged and clung in all the right ways. Robin realized he was staring a tad too long and frowned at himself. That wasn't right. He couldn't stare and . . . do what he needed to do. Slowly, he sat down beside her on the seat. "I think we both know why you're here," she began. "Your wife is back."

"She is," Robin agreed. "And . . . I'm still a married man because of it. I . . . owe it to her . . . to try and make it work." The pain was there, surfacing around the sadness in her eyes, and he hated himself for being the cause of it. He'd just wanted to make her smile, damn it. "Regina, I'm sorry," he whispered, his expression tightening with pain as well. "What I felt . . . and feel . . . for you is real. But I have to honor my vow."

"You have to love Marian," Regina said, her voice detached.

Robin could feel her slipping from him, and he so desperately wanted to hold onto her tighter. Each second, she slid further and further, and the absence was like a gaping wound in his chest. "I have to try," he breathed. "Goodbye, Regina." She didn't quite look at him. If she did, he'd see the tears collecting in her eyes.

"Goodbye, Robin."

Pain bloomed in his chest, and he forced himself off of the couch before he could go back—before he could undo the damage he had caused. Closing his eyes tightly as he turned away, he left the room. His boots were slipped back on, and he heard a single sob inside of the living room before he shut the door. The sound broke his very soul.

He never hated himself more.


	2. You're as Cold as Ice

A week had passed since Marian had appeared in Storybrooke. Robin had done his best to introduce her to this new world. There were still parts of it that even he didn't understand, but what he grasped, he passed onto her. Things like cars and telephones and electricity. Marian was quite excited about the electricity, though she didn't get to experience it a great deal, since the camp was still rather . . . rustic. They were out on a walk of the town, Roland happily accompanying them. These walks were common. Without a monster to tackle, life in Storybrooke was rather . . . simple. Almost boring, even. At least, it was boring for a thief like Robin, who spent most of his time planning or executing a heist.

There wasn't anyone to steal from in Storybrooke. They were all reasonably paid. If anything, he and his Merry Men needed the most aid. So, taking walks was how they occupied their newfound time. Roland enjoyed it, at least, since they often ended up at the park. The playground there was his favorite to climb on and imagine up stories. Those stories usually revolved around their time spent in the Enchanted Forest. It occurred to Robin that Roland's time in what Robin considered to be home would likely be forgotten by his young son. He'd never recall Sherwood Forest. There was something about that that saddened him.

"Can we have ice cream, Papa?" Roland asked as they neared the ice cream store. Robin smiled for a moment. If there was one thing in this new world that Roland loved even more than his playground . . . it was ice cream. Regina had introduced the sweet to him, and he had been hooked since. "Regina let me have ice cream." The smile slowly faded from his lips, which pressed into a thin line instead. Regina. He hadn't seen her since that conversation. In fact, not that many people had. From what he gathered, she kept to herself. Snow had to take over Mayoral duties. It was why they were headed into town. Snow was holding a meeting to discuss some of the goings-on in Storybrooke lately. Robin was hoping they had something on the snow giant that had attacked them. If there was a new threat, he wanted to be prepared for it.

"We can get some ice cream," Marian said, smiling down at Roland. "What's your favorite kind?"

"Chocolate!" Roland replied immediately. Robin smiled at that. Chocolate was the only kind he'd ever had.

"Come on then. We can eat it as we walk." Robin led them over to the ice cream store and opened the door for them. The ice cream lady—who he still hadn't figured the name of—greeted them happily.

"Welcome, welcome. What can I get you today?" she asked.

"Hullo. Two Rocky Roads, please and . . .?" he looked at Marian questioningly. She seemed at a loss with the flavors. "Let's start you easily. Chocolate can rather go straight to your head. As our son has demonstrated. Vanilla, please."

The ice cream lady nodded and whipped up the two Rocky Roads. "Here you go."

"Thank-you!" Roland exclaimed, taking the ice cream as if it were a holy relic. Robin smiled lightly down at him. His son's enthusiasm was a refreshing sight that kept saving him from despair. He was . . . having a difficult time falling in love with Marian. He had hoped it would be simple, or that it would be easy. He'd done it before, there was no reason he couldn't do so again . . . but there was something off. It didn't feel the same. Not to mention, every time he tried to feel something akin to love, Regina's face popped into his mind. Every time he embraced Marian or laid himself down beside her to sleep and felt her body against his side . . . it felt wrong. The wrong proportions, the wrong scent, the wrong shape. Though externally, he forced himself to reciprocate and touch, inwardly he cringed and retracted.

"And one for the dashing father," the ice cream lady handed him his cone a well.

"Thank-you," Robin smiled at her compliment, letting Marian have a small lick while her ice cream cone was being made. At the very first lick, Marian's eyes lit up with wonder. Robin chuckled. "Not bad, right? Be mindful though. Our family already has one ice cream addict." Roland was half-way through his ice cream already, his face covered with chocolate. He grinned up at them before smashing the ice cream against his mouth once more.

"And one for the beautiful mother," the ice cream lady returned to them with Marian's cone. "On the house. To welcome you to town."

"Oh, that is very kind of you, thank-you," Robin said warmly. It was one surprising feat of Storybrooke. By and large, its occupants were the friendliest people he had ever met. They had their grumps, of course, but for the most part, they were a giving and warm-hearted people. It may not be home, but it wasn't a terrible replacement. "We'll be back," Robin promised, and then guided his family out of the store. Marian was happily eating her ice cream. As was Roland.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing up at the stoplight.

"That is . . ." Robin paused. "Actually, I have no idea what that is. But it turns different colors. Green, red and yellow. Not quite sure why."

"It's a stoplight!" Roland told them. "Henry told me about them. They make cars stop and go."

"Oh. Aren't you the little genius?" Robin ruffled his hair, smiling. He and Marian might be doomed, but at least his son was adapting well. They turned their feet towards City Hall where a few other fairytale folk were gathering. They walked up to the Mayor's Office which still resonated Regina to him . . . despite that it was now Snow sitting behind the large desk. The black and white color scheme, however, was too reminiscent . . . and he swore he smelled her perfume in the air. Grabbing a chair for Roland to sit in, Robin stood beside him and Marian. David was handing out itineraries that outlined the meeting. Once Robin received his, he noticed Grumpy waving him over. "Excuse me," he touched Marian's arm, then headed over.

"Hey, man," Grumpy said quietly enough not to be overhead. "I heard about your plight." Robin's brow furrowed a little. "I did some thinking . . . and I think I found the perfect solution." Robin lifted an eyebrow. Well, this would be interesting. "Marry them both. Now . . . hear me out. They both want you, right? And you want both of them. Marry them both. No one will bat an eye . . . too much. I mean, come on, man, you're living every man's dream here. Two women? You dog."

Robin kept his patience, knowing the dwarf meant well. "I assure you I'm living my nightmare. I appreciate your advise. The next time you offer up joint marriage to two girls, let me know how that goes." He pat Grumpy on the arm and returned to his wife. Well, at least he had something to actually suggest . . . unlike Archie. If only it were that simple . . . but Regina and Marian weren't the sharing kind, and nor was he. His guilt would eat him alive.

"What did he want?" Marian asked curiously.

"Oh, he just wanted to hear about that monster that attacked our camp," Robin lied. He wasn't sure if he sold it. He hoped he did. This tug-of-war was something he just wanted buried. Snow called the meeting into session and the babble died down. His gaze lowered to the list. Ah, there was the snow giant. Excellent. Snow informed them that it was made by a woman named Elsa who did not mean them any harm. That she had also put it in a giant ice barrier that surrounded the city . . . but really, really didn't mean anything by it. Robin found it rather suspicious, but he supposed if he was needed, he'd be called upon.

Noticing a sagging to his right, he turned to find Marian fainting. "Marian!" he exclaimed, catching her before she could hit the ground. Something was wrong. Her hair was turning white, and her face was blue . . . it looked as though frost was appearing on her skin. Those at the meeting gathered around, all talking at once. "Clear the way!" he exclaimed, picking her up and carrying her over to the sofa. Laying her down, he watched her hair turn only whiter . . . her skin bluer.

"Is this Elsa, too?" Robin demanded, looking at Snow. "Tell her to stop it."

Snow shook her head. "I have no idea, Robin. If it is, I don't know why Marian is targeted."

Magic. It was clearly magic. God, he really hated it sometimes. It was dangerous for any one person to control. Magic, to his mind, had done a lot more destruction than good. Regina had been changing his mind about that for awhile, but this? This just reminded him why he didn't trust it. "I need to get help," he said. "Grumpy, can you take Roland back to the Merry Men?" he asked the dwarf. The last thing he needed Roland to see was his mother die right before his eyes.

"You got it, fox," Grumpy said. "Come on, little guy. Your mom needs some rest now." Roland tearfully followed, giving Robin a questioning look. He wished he could comfort his son and tell him his mother would be alright . . . but he didn't know if that was the truth.

"I'll be right back," he said to Snow and David. "Just . . . watch her. Please." Robin quickly left the room. There was only one person who could help him save Marian now.

* * *

" _And the old man is up again! This is quite the match we have here, m'ladies and m'lords! Neck-and-neck!"_

 _Robin, dressed in a shabby cloak with a fake nose and fake grey beard, bowed to the cheering audience. Prince John was holding a tourney, and for the archery contest, he was giving away a golden arrow. A solid gold arrow. Robin could barely resist such a challenge. He could feed three villages with that prize. Turning to the target, he removed an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. Glancing down the shaft, he pulled back to his ear . . . then released. The arrow sang through the air and embedded itself right in the middle of the bull's eye._

 _The crowd roared, and he bowed again, delighted by their frenzy. Up in the stands, close to Prince John, was his Marian. She had taken a job as a handmaiden to one of Prince John's nieces who was visiting. It brought in a little extra money . . . and she was the perfect inside man for their more daring of heists. The only problem . . . was that the Sheriff of Nottingham had taken a liking to her._

 _It was the Sheriff, in fact, that he was facing now in the archery contest. He watched the Sheriff nock, then release his arrow. To Robin's annoyance, it split his arrow. Prince John and the moneygrubbers applauded the Sheriff's accomplishment. It looked like he was up again. "Beat that, peasant," the Sheriff said snidely in his ear._

 _Robin glared, though he quickly looked away when he thought he saw a flash of recognition in the Sheriff's eyes. He couldn't blow his cover now. Especially not in front of the Sheriff. "Oulright, yoo sonny boy. Let yer Papa teach yoo somethin'," he said in a heavy accent, lining up his next shot. Robin checked for wind, and then released his arrow. It split the Sheriff's arrow right in half. The audience stood up and roared with excitement. He'd won!_

 _Robin gave a smug look to the Sheriff, then hobbled up to the Prince's box to receive his prize. Marian was smiling warmly at him behind Prince John. He had to fight not to wink at her. As for the Prince, he was grinning as well. Everything about him seemed . . . oily . . . to Robin. His hair was blond and slicked back, making it look even greasier. His whiskers were curled in a loop on each end and shined with the grease used to style them. Even his skin was oily and shined under the sun._

" _Our champion!" Prince John announced, gesturing to Robin. The crowd applauded one last time. "Good sir, give us the name of our champion, so we might award you." The Prince unveiled the golden arrow, which sat on a silk pillow._

" _Me name is—"_

" _Oh, hold on," Prince John interrupted him. "I think I know your name." Robin's blood ran cold. "Robin. Hood." The crowd gasped, and Robin felt his arms grabbed by two guards who quickly restrained him. He grunted and struggled to free himself. The Sheriff came up to him, smirking, and removed the false nose and beard._

" _I knew it was you," he whispered to Robin. Turning to Prince John, he asked, "permission to execute the traitor, Your Grace?"_

" _Permission granted. Off with his head!" Prince John proclaimed._

" _NO!" Marian shouted. "Please, no. Spare him!"_

" _Marian, don't. It's alright," Robin tried to assure her, though he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one._

" _How interesting," the Sheriff mused, looking at Marian. "It seems the Maid Marian has . . . feelings . . . for this scoundrel. How much is his life worth to you, Marian? What would you do to spare him?"_

 _Robin felt a trap arising, and he shook his head at Marian, but she grit her teeth and replied, "anything."_

" _Will you marry me? Say you will marry me, and I will let this rat scurry back to his hole," the Sheriff told her._

" _Marian! Don't! My life isn't worth it. That's a lifetime of torment," Robin begged. "Just look at how he dresses! He'll have fancier dresses than you!"_

" _Shut up!" the Sheriff growled and elbowed him in the face. Robin grunted, momentarily blinded by pain. But his joke had been worth it. The crowd was chuckling, and both the Sheriff and the Prince looked uncomfortable by the reaction. "Well?" he demanded. "Will you marry me? Or will you watch this man become one head shorter?"_

 _Despite Robin shaking his head and shooting her pleading looks, Marian trembled and said, "I . . . will. I will marry you." Robin looked devastated._

" _Then we have ourselves a celebration. Prepare the chapel! At morning light, we'll have ourselves a wedding for the happy couple!" the Prince decreed. "Take him away to the dungeon."_

" _No! Our deal!" Marian cried, moving forward, but another guard grabbed onto her shoulder, keeping her in place. Robin struggled against the guards as well, but received a sharp elbow to his gut which doubled him over with a grunt._

" _Oh, he'll remain alive, my bride," the Sheriff assured her. "Can't have you getting cold feet at the altar." Robin was dragged off, but he watched Marian for as long as he could see her—trying to communicate his love. He wasn't sure if she got the message. But he'd find a way to save her from the Sheriff. Somehow._

* * *

The sharp jingle of the diner door seemed harsher in his ears than ever before. Perhaps because he had hoped his entry would be quiet and unstartling, as most of his entries were prone to be. His entry had been hurried, however, and so even as all eyes were drawn to his frantic frame, he sought out the one he had come to find. How he knew she was here, he wasn't entirely sure. His feet had simply turned in this direction, and he felt in his very core that he'd find her within. Whatever instinct—or perk of being soulmates—it was, he was relieved that it had not run him astray.

"Regina," he breathed out, sounding as breathless as he looked. "Regina, I need your help. I-I didn't know who else to turn to. It's . . . Marian. Something's happened to her. Something magical. Please, you must come with me." She is surprised to see him. He can read that clearly. He can also read the disappointment forming in her warm eyes. She had hoped he was there to see her—and just her. Another injury he'd have to find some way of repairing. Robin was all too aware of the unfairness of what he was asking of her. But Emma's magic, for whatever reason, was currently having problems, and he didn't dare let Rumpelstiltskin near Marian.

There was a silent shift in her shoulders, a detachment in her eyes, before she nodded. "Very well. Where is she?" Regina asked.

"In your office. Snow's . . . office," Robin corrected himself. Regina waved her hands, and he felt the tingle of magic against his skin—like static electricity lightly kissing over his flesh. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't painful either. All it took was a blink, and he found himself back in her office. Again, he disliked magic, but he couldn't argue with the current convenience it gave to him. "She's over here," Robin led her over to the sofa where Marian looked even worse.

Her nose and eyes seemed frozen over—her lips a bright blue. "Oh, this is powerful," Regina murmured. "Once it reaches her heart, she'll die."

Robin turned to her, desperation in his voice and eyes, "can you help her? Can you stop it?"

Just then, Emma walked in with a stranger dressed in blue. "Perhaps we should ask our new friend here," Regina said, her eyes settling on the newcomer. "You conjured up the Abominable Frosty the Snowman. How do we know you didn't do this, too?"

Emma bristled at that. "Because I trust her."

The woman, who Robin surmised was Elsa, looked over Marian. "I don't know who could have done this. I'm the only one with this power. The only thing that can break it is true love's kiss." Robin felt their eyes on him. Right. He probably should have tried that before he called upon Regina's aid. Clearing his throat, he knelt down on the ground beside Marian and pressed his lips to hers. They were frozen, and it felt like kissing a frozen shard of water. When she did not stir, he pulled back, his brow furrowing.

"Why isn't it working?" he asked, looking up at them. He asked the question, but the answer was already resounding in his conflicted heart. _She isn't your true love. You don't love her anymore._ There it was—the truth he didn't want to hear. Despite his attempts, his heart was unable to reach hers. It was already filled by another. Fresh guilt washed him. He wanted to be true to his wife, but how could he when even his heart betrayed him?

"I've seen this before," David said. "When Frederick was turned to gold. The cold might be acting as a barrier."

Frustration was gnawing at him. Every second brought Marian closer to death. He may not be in love her, but she was still Marian. A part of him would always love her. "Is there nothing we can do?" he asked, his urgency returned to Regina.

"I . . . I don't know how to cure it," Regina admitted, "but . . . I have an idea. I can slow it down long enough that it might work, but," she met Robin's eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course," Robin replied without hesitation. His confidence in her was unfailing. She seemed to be surprised by his answer, but she didn't waste further time. Henry, who had also poofed with them, was told to run to her vault and grab one of the heart containers. Robin had an inkling of what she was about to do. Would it work? Or would the magic just leap? He took a step back as she moved over Marian, her hands dancing just above her prone body. Robin could do nothing but pace back and forth. He hated it. This was precisely why he mistrusted magic—it was unfair. It stacked the odds. He was a relatively strong man with reasonable intelligence. But he could do nothing to protect his wife against magic.

All he could do was watch as the ice formed higher and higher, turning her entire body into a blue crystal. It was horrifying to watch. Henry didn't arrive a moment too soon, handing Regina the wooden box. Robin watched her thrust her hand into Marian's chest and rip out her heart. It was placed within the box, safely nestled. "There," Regina sighed, brushing her hair from her face, "she'll stay alive until I can figure out a way to break this curse."

"Alive, but . . . like this?" Robin gestured to the crystalized form.

"I'm afraid so," Regina said. "At least until I find a cure. And I will find a cure. I'm sorry, Robin." The others filed out then, Henry taking Marian's heart to a secure location. His shoulders deflated, and he scratched at the scruff on his jaw wearily. This was too much to handle—for any man to handle. Wife comes back from the dead shortly after he meets his soulmate, and then his wife gets turned into an ice cube, teetering on the brink of death! He might just have to see Dr. Hopper again, after all.

"It's alright," he said finally, his voice quiet. "It isn't your fault." It rested on his shoulders, in the end. "I just wish I could tell Roland I did everything I could."

Regina shifted, her tone comforting. "True love's kiss doesn't always work."

And there it was. True love's kiss worked in most situations. Barrier or not, there was a reason his kiss didn't work. "That kiss didn't work because of what David said," Robin said, his eyes moving to her. "It's . . . it's because I'm in love with someone else." His heart surged as the words left his lips. Guilt took second place against the relief he felt admitting it at last—to her.

She paused, her expression shifting between shocked, joyous and conflicted. Everything he saw in her face was precisely how he felt. "You are?" she breathed, as if speaking any louder might make the words suddenly ring false.

"I am," Robin confirmed, and the ache to touch her had his fingers itching—twitching. But Marian was there. She may have been cursed, but she was there. "But I—"

"I know. I know you have to go back to her. She's your wife." Robin nodded sadly. And that was the hollow truth. She was his wife. He was married to a woman he was no longer in love with, but who very likely still loved him. He never knew pretending to love someone could be so painful.

* * *

 _The steady drip-drip-drip was lulling Robin to sleep. Every time he nodded off, his head clunked back against a stone column—which jarred him awake immediately. He was tied to the column in a dungeon cell. Stray—old and trampled a hundred-fold over—was strewn about the floor. Dried blood and feces was pressed into the floor, becoming as permanent as the very stone. He'd been there all day. A small window to his right allowed him to see the stars, which told him he had only a few hours to find a way to escape, rescue Marian, and be out of the castle before sunrise._

 _His wrists were chafed, but he almost had one free of the cuff. A bit more blood would lubricate it and . . . he winced, the pain a sharp stinging, until his hand gave, and he was wrenched free from the cuff. "Oh, thank god," he breathed. His wrist was still bleeding, but he'd tend to it later. With one hand free, he was able to reach his boot. Within his heel, he kept a small lockpick for such occasions. Never say that Robin Hood did not come prepared. Taking the lockpick, he worked on freeing his other hand, his eye on the door. There were at least two guards outside of that door. How many more on patrol, he was unsure._

 _Robin was counting on his Merry Men storming the castle. Or, well, quietly storming the castle. More like a summer rain really—gentle and calming. "Bloody hell, I'm thirsty," he muttered to himself, then heard a click, and the cuff spring open. Free entirely, he sprang up and ripped some of his tunic, quickly bandaging his injured wrist. Pressing himself against the wall near the door, he peeked through the guard window slowly. As he thought, the two guards were standing just in front of the door._

 _Kneeling, he started to pick the lock on the door, hoping his little noises wouldn't attract the guards. The second it clicked, he heard one of the guards ask, "hey, what was-?" but that was all he got out before Robin shoved the door forward and knocked him right out. His fist collided with the other guard's face, breaking his nose. The guard cried out and clutched at his face, his other hand drawing his sword blindly. Robin grabbed the unconscious guard's sword and used the pommel to strike the guard in the back of the head. The guard slumped, and he pulled them into the cell he had just abandoned._

 _Stripping one of them, he put on their armor and sheathed the sword at his side. Robin walked down the hall, searching for the stairs out of the dungeon. The sound of fighting caught his interest, and he hurried his step. Just as he reached a spiral staircase, he found a guard rolling down it—head over feet. Slumped at Robin's feet, he pulled him to the side and looked up just as . . . "Marian!" he cried, seeing the leather-clad form of his dearest love. "What are you doing here?"_

" _Robin?" Marian asked, removing his helmet. Seeing his face, she broke into a relieved grin, "oh, Robin!" She threw her arms around him, and he embraced her tightly, confused but relieved to see her as well. Behind Marian, Little John and Will Scarlet walked smugly down the stairs._

" _Thought you needed a little help," Will grinned._

" _We freed our little lady here and brought her some clothes more appropriate for an escape," Little John explained. "We were just coming to grab you, but it looks as though you were doing just fine without us."_

" _I could say the same of you," Robin replied. "Let's get out of here before the rest of the castle decides to ruin our night." They rushed back up the stairs and towards the tower that Marian had been staying in. Robin noticed unconscious guards left and right. They'd done quite well. He was proud of them. Once they entered Marian's room, they took to the window. A rope dangled down to the ground—obviously where Little John and Will had ascended and reunited with their Marian. Below, he could see Alan-a-Dale and Much standing guard and gesturing them down._

 _One-by-one, they climbed down the rope. Robin was the last to go, ensuring the others were safe first. Before he left, he took the sword at his belt and carved 'RH' into the wall. A little present for their dear Sheriff and Phony King of England. Slipping down the rope, he touched the ground and embraced the rest of his Merry Men. "Well done. Well done all of you. Now, let's return home before risk our luck any further." They rushed off to the forest line where their horses were hidden._

 _Robin helped Marian mount, then climbed onto his own horse. With a quick flick of his heels, they galloped into the forest, disappearing into the night. They did not stop until they reached the safety of Sherwood Forest—and their camp within. Robin heard the tell-tale whistle of one of the night watchmen announcing their arrival. All over the trees, they had sentries placed to watch for any unwanted company. It was rare for a guard to stumble their way—so deep in the Sherwood Forest were they located. Not to mention, local superstition often kept even the bravest of souls from traversing the wild and untamable Sherwood Forest._

 _They rode through a final checkpoint—invisible to the untrained eye—and then entered their encampment. There was little on the ground by means of buildings. Everything was built in the trees. Treehouses of all shapes and sizes were built around massive trees—each one connected by a rope bridge. Lanterns lit up the small tree-village, casting everything in a warm glow. The one feature on the ground—besides the stables—was a giant fire pit where the community's meals were cooked and often ate around. The pit was burning brightly as they arrived._

 _The Merry Men—and their families—cheered when they entered. Robin couldn't help but grin at their warm reception. Dismounting, he was attacked with hugs and pats on the back. It was as if he had gotten rid of the Sheriff completely! Still, denying the Sheriff Marian's hand was a cause for victory in itself. Once he was released, he took Marian's hand and led her from the crowd who was looking to celebrate with an early breakfast._

" _I was worried about you," Robin told her. "What could have possessed you to agree to marry Sheriff?" he asked her._

 _Marian smiled and shook her head. "I couldn't let you just die, Robin. You're more important than me. Than any of us."_

 _That made him frown. "I am who I am because of you. If you weren't here . . . if you weren't with me . . . I'd be nothing but a two-bit thief with a penchant for getting grotesquely drunk." His hand tightened on hers, and he pulled her closer to him. "I can't ever let you do that again. Not for me. I love you, Marian." The words left his lips for the first time. A grin followed shortly after when he saw the light dazzle in her eyes._

" _I love you too, Robin," she replied, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply. Robin held her clasped to him. A fire may have been burning brightly beside them, but it paled to the inferno in his heart as he held her—the woman he loved._

* * *

Emma returned shortly after Marian's heart had been removed. She informed them that the culprit behind the ice wall and Marian's curse was the ice cream lady. Robin was astonished. It made sense, however. They had just seen her earlier that day. It was frightening. It could have been Roland who she attacked. "Do you have her in custody?" Robin asked her.

"Not yet," Emma admitted. "We're still looking for her. But . . . at least we know who to look for. Keep your men on watch. It's easy to hide in the forest."

"If she's out there, we'll find her," Robin vowed, his tone angry. She had attacked _his_ family. That wasn't something he could just take laying down. Right now though, he needed to see his son and somehow . . . explain. "I need to see Roland," he said, then looked at Regina. She was dressed in, perhaps, the most casual set of clothes he had ever seen her in. He realized that, suddenly, with a warm, endearing feeling. Before he could catch himself, he dreamed of what it would be like had they continued to see one another. When her walls came completely down, and she pulled out those—what did Snow call them?—sweatpants. Though, judging by the description, he highly doubted Regina owned a pair. Pajamas then. Those were extremely casual. A pang of regret hit him when he recalled that he would never be allowed to see her so casual—so off-guard. He wasn't allowed that intimacy anymore.

"Thank-you," he said finally. Regina nodded, silent, likely still processing his earlier words. He glanced at Marian once more, then left the Mayor's Office and headed down towards the forest. His steps were quick. It was getting dark, and he needed to see Roland and set up a perimeter before then. Once he reached the camp, he was met by Little John.

"We need to set up night shifts," Robin told him. "We're looking for the woman who ran the ice cream shop. Blond hair. Rather pale. Tall."

"Mate, I know. I went to that ice cream store like every day," Little John told him. "Why is she after your family?"

"I don't know," Robin sighed. "Regina is going to help, but . . ." his gaze fell on Roland, who was sitting in their tent in his pajamas. He looked scared. "What do I say to him? How do I tell a boy who just got his mother back that she's on the verge of death again?"

Little John gripped his shoulder. "You remember that you're his father, and to a little boy, it's only his father who can make the monsters go away."

He considered those words, then nodded. "Thank-you. I'll take second watch. There's no bloody way I'm sleeping anytime soon." Robin brushed past him and headed for his son.

"Papa?" Roland greeted him. "Is Mama better?"

Robin gave a forced smile. "Not yet, little lion. But she's alright. You'll see her soon, promise." Pressing a kiss to Roland's temple, he urged him back into the tent. "Regina is going to find some medicine that will make her all better, and then she can read to you again. What book did you and Mama start together?" he asked, resting on his side beside his son. Roland grabbed a book off of the small chair inside of the tent.

"Ah," Robin looked at the book. " _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._ Would you like me to read a bit tonight?"

"Mhm," Roland nodded and got into his sleeping bag. Robin pulled his favorite blanket up over him, tucking him in. "Alright." Clearing his throat, Robin began. " _Boom. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. 'Where's the cannon?' he said stupidly,"_ Robin read, mimicking voices in the manner that Roland liked. Reading stories had been their evening past time before Marian had returned. Hoping to build that connection between mother and son, Robin had allowed Marian to take over his bedtime reading profession. _"'Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby,' said the giant. 'Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes,'"_ Robin read.

"Like me?" Roland asked.

"Mhm. Just like you," Robin nodded.

"I'm Harry Potter!" Roland concluded with an excited grin.

The rest of the chapter was read until it concluded. Roland's eyes were half-closed by the time Robin marked his place. "You can be whoever you want to be, little lion," he murmured, kissing his forehead. And he hoped, by the time Roland was old enough, he'd be able to love whoever he wanted, too.


	3. You're Willing to Sacrifice Our Love

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, dear reader(s)! I have a quick little announcement to make. My lovely lady and muse, Resilient Heart, has decided to write a companion piece to this one. If you wish to read the story through Regina's eyes, I suggest finding her story entitled "Queen." I will provide a link to the story on my profile as well. It's a fantastic read, and her Regina is spot-on when it comes to characterization. You won't be disappointed. Besides that, I wanted to thank everyone, again, for the reviews that have been sent in. They sure do bring a lovely smile to this humble writer's face.**

* * *

"Robin, wake up. The boys have found something."

Grumbling unhappily, Robin opened one eye to find Little John prodding his side. "Wassat?" he slurred, wiping his eyes and trying to gain some form of coherency.

"Much and Alan. They were out on the perimeter and found a truck. An ice cream truck," John explained, giving him a pointed look. Robin sat up, blinking and gave a nod. Right. The Snow Queen. Ever since Marian's curse, she had disappeared from sight. Despite near-constant searches for her, they had all been fruitless. Since the Snow Queen had yet to attack again, however, some slack had been granted in the Merry Men camp. Shifts had been relaxed, though Robin was glad that he had not disbanded them all together.

"Tell them not to touch it. I'll contact Emma and inform her," Robin instructed and pulled off his thick plaid pajama shirt. It was becoming chillier at night. The summer was ending, and he knew that before winter hit, he'd need to figure out better sleeping quarters for his men. They had been working on building a home similar to the one they owned in Sherwood Forest, but it was slow progress with all of the emergencies that were happening. The tools to build with, however, were incredibly helpful. Automatic chainsaws and air-pressure hammers . . . before long, the houses would be building themselves.

As much as he hated to—those houses really did need to be finished—he told John to pull Tuck and Art off of the houses and join the others at the truck, too. Once John had left, he changed into his jeans and pulled on a fresh shirt. Roland was still blissfully asleep, his mouth open just a little bit. Robin smiled down at him and brushed his hand lightly through his son's thick curls. This one deserved to live in a home . . . not a tent. He deserved a mother, too. He deserved . . . so much more than Robin would ever be able to give.

"Hey," he kissed Roland's ear, gently stroking his hair a little firmer to wake him. "Roland. Come on, buddy. We need to get you dressed. Papa has to go take care of some business."

Roland wasn't happy about the early hour either. He whined and argued, but Robin eventually coaxed him out of his sleeping bag and into a fresh set of clothes. Yawning, the Locksley men exited their tent and grabbed a quick breakfast at the fire. John took charge of Roland, and Robin put in a call to Emma. "Robin?" she said, her voice questioning. It wasn't often he called the Sheriff of Storybrooke. In fact, he was rather certain he had never called her before.

"Emma. We've found the Snow Queen's ice cream truck. Apparently, it seems to be empty, but I have my men standing by," he told her.

"Good. Don't let anyone inside. We don't know what she's hiding in there or if she booby-trapped it or what," Emma said. "I'll be done in a few."

The phone clicked, and Robin stared down at it for a moment. It was an odd device—one that had taken a great deal of trial and error to understand it. Some of the buttons still confused him—like the one that was supposed to be 'Speakerphone.' The purpose behind it was a tad foggy. As was the idea of hanging up. Did he have to hang up, too? Or did just one person? Clearing his throat, he glanced around him and then called, "hello?" into the phone. "Emma?" Silence met him, and he nodded. Right. Only one person. Pocketing his phone, he grabbed his crossbow and headed towards the site of the ice cream trunk.

* * *

" _R-Robin?" Marian's voice sounded weak . . . slurred. By the time he had turned away from his game of cards with some of the Merry Men, she was collapsing to the ground._

" _Marian!" he exclaimed, panic erupting in his heart as he kicked away from the table and landed next to her on the floor. Picking her up, he cradled her in his arms, checking her forehead. "God, she's feverish. John, fetch Friar Tuck!" he said urgently to his friend, who ran out of the room to collect their healer and spirit advisor. "Marian," Robin called gently, brushing his hand through her hair. "Marian, can you hear me?"_

 _She had been feeling quite ill for a few days, but she had passed it off as something she had eaten that hadn't been cooked properly. Robin looked at her stomach, which was swollen with their child. She was due but in a few weeks. Lightly pressing his hand to her stomach, he felt for their child. A responsive kick to his hand gave him a momentary respite of relief. At least, thus far, the baby seemed alright. Carefully, he picked her up and carried her to their home in the trees. As soon as he had set her down on their bed, Friar Tuck came huffing into the room._

" _What's happened?" he gasped for air as he pushed inside, coming to Marian's side._

 _Robin fretted, standing and moving to the side, so Tuck could examine her without hindrance. "I'm not sure. She felt a little weak and thirty this morning, but otherwise she said she felt fine. Then, just a few minutes ago, she collapsed," Robin said, biting his lip, his expression pinched with worry. "Is she alright, Tuck? Is the baby alright?"_

" _Now, now, let me work, son," the Friar said calmly. "Sit outside. I'll collect you when I've finished examining her."_

 _Robin did not want to do that. If Marian needed him, he wanted to be right there at her side. But a stern look from his resident cleric had him begrudgingly leaving the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and paced back and forth. The house itself had been built around the massive tree trunk in which it sat. His hand ran over the surface of the tree as he walked in a circle around it. The house had three-levels, a spiral staircase connecting them. As one might imagine, all was made of wood. Robin had made sure to lend a hand during its construction—which was why it had a zipline at the top of the house that led right to a nearby pond. Marian had told him once their child was born, he had to get rid of it, since it was hardly safe for a child to use._

 _Bookcases filled with books lined the current floor he was on. They were for Marian's benefit, and not his own, since he wasn't a reader by choice. Marian's touch came with the tinted glass that sat in the carefully carved windows. The light ran through and illuminated the interior of the home with bright reds and blues and greens. His pacing eventually let him out the small door to his left—arriving out on the balcony that wrapped itself around the house. There was only this balcony on this level of the house—the middle level—and it connected to their neighbor's home—which happened to be Little John's—via a rope bridge._

 _Resting his palms against the railing, he looked down on the forest floor where some of his people were busy walking to and fro. The day's hunters were coming in with their catches for dinner. His appetite, which had been starting to become voracious before Marian's collapse, was now clenched with worry. There was distant laughter as well, no doubt some of the Merry Men's children at play. He envied their ignorance._

 _Time passed slowly, and Friar Tuck did not emerge until the sun had started to set. Robin was amazed he had not gone mad during the slow turning of time. "Well?" he asked the tired-looking Friar as he came out onto the balcony. "What is it? Is she okay?" The grim look on Tuck's face had his stomach dropping to the ground. "Tuck . . ."_

" _I'm afraid . . . There is nothing I can do," Tuck said quietly. "It is a disease I have seen before, and . . . and hoped never to have seen again. There is no known cure."_

" _What is it?" Robin demanded, his voice becoming tight._

" _It's . . . a confusing disease. Her body, brought on by the baby, is turning against itself. There is one way to save her, of course," Tuck fretted, "but I'm afraid you must make a choice. The baby can be removed, and if God is merciful, it will live. With the removal of the child, Marian's body may return to its full health. Or you can allow the baby to remain. I will treat her as best I can, and if we are lucky, she may live long enough to term . . . though the likelihood of her surviving child birth is . . . grim."_

 _Robin ran a hand through his hair, feeling older than his young years should have permitted. "So, either I can risk the child for the mother, or the mother for the child. What choice is that?" he asked bitterly. He knew what Marian would ask of him. Hers was a pure heart and a pure soul. She'd want him to ensure their child lived, regardless of what happened to her . . . but he wasn't strong enough to make that sort of decision. "There's no medicine that can cure her?" he asked the Friar once more._

" _Not in this world," Tuck replied, his own expression riddled with sadness._

" _Then . . . it looks like I need to take a trip," Robin said, his decision made. His brow pressed into one of determination, and he returned to his bedroom where Marian lay still—though she breathed softly._

" _What do you plan to do?" Tuck asked him._

 _Robin grabbed a bag and stuffed it with a few clothes and supplies. "Something I hate doing." He opened a drawer in the desk that was pressed up against the window. Removing the false bottom, he pulled out a necklace in the shape of a six leaf clover. Removing one of the green beads, he attached it to a string and put it over his head. "Find some magic."_

* * *

Judging by what he could see through the windows, the ice cream truck appeared empty. "Keep your eyes open, gentlemen," Robin said as he walked away from the truck. "This isn't here by chance." If the Snow Queen wanted to ditch her little mobile of terror, she could have just destroyed it. Holding his crossbow aloft, Robin took position on the eastern side of the truck. The forest was still and silent . . . until he heard the sound of footsteps. His finger immediately went to the trigger on the crossbow. Aiming at the disturbance of a tree twenty yards down, he relaxed when he saw blond hair and a familiar leather jacket.

"Sheriff," he greeted with a smile. Behind her, he saw Killian as well and . . . Regina. Of course, he should had expected that she would come if there was news of the Snow Queen. Robin ran his gaze over her. She was dressed in her usual wardrobe—black boots, exquisite skirt and a silk shirt—black, of course—tucked neatly within. All complimented with a coat to match. Even marching through the forest, she looked composed and stunning. His heart gave a traitorous leap in his chest, but to be honest, he had been hoping to see her again. He needed to speak to her . . . about Marian . . . about what he had confessed to her.

"Thanks for keeping an eye out," Emma said, drawing his gaze back to her.

"Gladly," he replied, offering her a small smile. "You're the first sheriff I don't mind assisting." Emma smirked at that, understanding his joke despite never having shared in his experiences. It was common in this town. Everyone knew each other's stories. He didn't, but the others did. Henry had told him once that a great deal of the residents of the Storybrooke had movies made about them. After he had clarified to Robin exactly what a movie was, he had been . . . confused . . . How could millions of people know his name? Not just that, but as a fox? He looked nothing like a fox. Henry had assured him that were different movies about his story, and he wondered how authentic they were. He just might have to make a few calls otherwise.

As Emma and Killian passed, Robin glanced almost nervously at Regina. She wasn't meeting his eye. Right. "Uhm. Regina. I was hoping we could talk," he began, sidling up next to her.

Without looking at him once, she gestured to the truck and continued walking, "um, in case you didn't notice, I'm about to storm an evil ice cream truck." She hurried her steps after that, catching up with Emma. Robin faltered, his lips pressing together grimly. Right. Killian, who had also fallen back, gave him a sympathetic look.

"I feel for you, mate, I do," Killian said, patting his shoulder with his good hand.

"If only my life was as easy as yours seems to be," Robin sighed, staring after Regina. But then he recalled that Killian had finally taken Emma out on an official date . . . "How was your night out with Emma?" he inquired, looking over at the pirate. There was some brotherly love between a pirate and a thief. They were in similar lines of work, after all.

"Oh, it went quite well," the pirate smiled widely. "Quite a few kisses were had."

Robin smiled wistfully. He remembered those days . . . "Well, obviously you two are moving forward. Otherwise, I imagine you'd be clear on opposite sides of Storybrooke."

"Oh, we're moving forward, mate. Very forward," Killian smirked, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

Robin couldn't help but chuckle. "You'll have to give me the details later. Preferably over something strong and intoxicating."

"You have yourself a date as well," Killian grinned, patting his shoulder again before following after Regina and Emma.

"Mm," Robin grunted, warding off the feeling of melancholy. He was happy for Killian and Emma. The times where he had been able to sit down with Killian and talk, the pirate had usually ended up on the same subject—Emma. Robin knew a man in love when he saw one . . . he just hoped they had more luck than his own love life did. It wouldn't take much, really. As the three busied themselves in the ice cream truck, he kept watch once more. Some of his men were staring at the truck, and he clicked his tongue at them. "Oi. She's not going to appear in the truck. Keep an eye on the trees."

They flushed and turned around. Sighing, Robin maneuvered himself back to the truck. Peering within, he saw Emma holding a piece of paper. "What have you got there?" he asked, setting his crossbow down on the ground against the door. Climbing into the truck, he squeezed in with the others. The close proximity seemed to be too much for Regina, since she quickly slipped past him and back out the end. Yes, she was definitely avoiding him.

Emma showed him the piece of paper. "The Snow Queen has apparently been around for thirty years. At the very least, since I landed here. She's been keeping tabs on me," she showed Robin the folder which was full of news articles concerning her.

His brow furrowed in thought. "What could the Snow Queen possibly want with you?" And if she was after Emma, then why did she attack Marian? What was her reasoning for any of this?

"I'm not sure," Emma bit her lip, taking the folder and picking up a box that seemed full of similar folders. "I have a lot to go through it seems." Robin moved out of the way, so she could start stacking and left the truck in time to find Regina lingering on the perimeter. A fresh dose of determination took over, and he started in her direction. He was going to have it out with her.

"I can't help but think you're avoiding me," he said, coming up behind her.

"Not very well it seems," she replied, moving away from him.

Irritation flared at her inability to look at him. He hated it. It was as if he existed in some form of purgatory where he could see her and smell her, but her back would forever-be turned away from him. Robin realized then that it was a gift to be beheld by her eyes—a gift he selfishly wanted. "You're upset because of what I said. That I'm still in love with you." Robin sighed. "I suppose I should never have told you. Not after I asked you to find a way to save my wife." Where was the fairness in that? Where was the justice for her? He'd likely only further doomed her into further torment. If only she knew she was not alone in that torment.

"That's not why I'm avoiding you," she said, and Robin felt the irritation rise again. If not that, then what was it!?

"Then why can't you even look me in the eye?" he demanded, quickening his step to overtake her and force them to speak face-to-face. Once he was under her gaze again, he calmed. In some way, in some form, his peace had returned—he was looking into her eyes again.

"Because I don't know how to tell you the truth," Regina said, her own irritation rising. He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes—dazzling, even in their annoyance.

The anger there spurred him to comfort immediately. "You know you can tell me anything. That has never changed, Regina." His fingers flexed, trying to rid the instinct of reaching for her hands to hold them. Every impulse in his body was geared and prepared to soothe her. Where she was the blazing fire, he was the quiet trickling stream—or if need be—the fallen timber to ignite her flames further.

"I've read every spell book in my possession, experimented with every potion in my vault. I even tried to defeat the Snow Queen, so I could force her to reverse the spell," Regina explained. Robin was entirely unaware of this little adventure. He was touched at her devotion, but he didn't understand why she hadn't informed him. Going up against the Snow Queen was exactly what he wanted. She had done this to Marian, and she would answer to justice. "But nothing I do seems good enough."

At last, he could stop those dark thoughts that were obviously swirling in her head. "But it will be, Regina. I have faith in you. You will figure out a way eventually."

She looked uncomfortable for a moment. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I'm not sure I _can_ figure it out." Robin paused at that. For some reason, he had never really thought of what would happen if Regina was unable to discover a cure for Marian. He'd been confident in her abilities and knowledge of magic. "Robin, I'm sorry, but if you truly want to save Marian . . . you're going to have to forget about me . . . and find a way . . . to fall in love with your wife again."

Her words were spoken painfully—each one a shard right to his heart. "I can't," he breathed, not knowing if she heard him or not, for she was already moving past him. Robin let her go, unable to find the strength to follow her. He'd do anything to save his wife . . . but she had asked him to do the impossible. How did one stop loving one's soulmate?

* * *

 _He'd do anything to save her. Robin peered at the castle surrounded by wintery mountains. He'd rode his horse to the near brink of death to reach this desolate castle. The rumor that he was following was that the Dark One lived here. He knew the man from a previous encounter, and since he was certain Rumpelstiltskin would not be happy to see his mug again, he had brought along an accessory. Removing the Six Leaf Clover from under his tunic, he twisted the top._

 _The magic was ignited, and his form changed shape. He became darker of hair with a bushier beard. Though he could not see his reflection, he knew that his entire body had changed. The Six Leaf Clover was a potent glamour enchantment. He was quite glad that he had decided to nick it from Oz. Lowering it underneath his tunic once more, he urged his horse down the path closer to the castle. It was likely that the Dark One had magic spells all over to warn him of unwanted presences. He just hoped he was quick enough before Rumple could return from whatever part of the realm he was doing his nasty business in._

 _Dismounting, he tied his horse up and made the rest of the journey on foot. According to the records he had read, the room he was looking for was right . . . he stopped beside a great wall . . . here. His gaze moved skyward. That was the room—the study—it held the item Robin was after. Taking an arrow, he tied a knotted rope to it, and then aimed for a window. Loosing the arrow, it flew and right through the glass—shattering it. Not quite his usual stealthy methods, but he was entirely desperate. Besides, he highly doubted he'd be caught . . ._

 _FIVE MINUTES LATER . . ._

" _AHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed in pure agony as the ringing in his head grew intense. It became so loud that his eardrums burst and blood leaked from his ears. Somewhere in that high-pitched ringing, there was a giggling. The sound receded and Robin gasped sharply as sweet silence replaced it. He was strung up by the wrists to the ceiling, his weight resting heavily on them. All of the blood had gone from his arms—they were numb now. He was familiar with torture. In a few days, if Rumple intended to keep him like this, his arm would fall right out of his socket._

 _Suffice it to say, his plan had not gone according to plan. Rumpelstiltskin was home, for one. Second, his reliable arrows had done squat against the Dark One's power. So, Robin had been carted off to the dungeons where he was currently receiving his fourth hour of torture. The blood was hot as it rolled down the side of his face and neck. Panting, he rested his forehead against his arm, closing his eyes. To his relief, Rumple had yet to discover his glamor, but that would matter little if he died in this dungeon and was unable to save Marian._

" _And that's just the pain I can give you_ inside _of your body," Rumple told him. "Tomorrow, we'll get begin on the flesh," he ran a hand over Robin's chest, his sharp nail pricking the skin. Why did he receive the impression that Rumple wouldn't be using magic at all for that romp? "Rest well, my little pet," he giggled and skipped off._

 _Robin was disoriented from the dizzying and seemingly endless torture. Had it really only been a day? It felt as though a month had passed since he'd been chained here. Trying to keep his mental faculties sharp, he concentrated on his goal—Marian. He'd endure much and more for her. It was a trick he had learned back in the Crusades. He'd been captured by the Turks and sent to a Prisoner Camp. The torture there had been even worse than what Rumple had bestowed upon him, so far. As long as he kept his mind, he would endure._

 _Time passed. He could not tell minute from hour. Yet some time after Rumple had left, the door opened again, and the woman he had encountered in the study stood in the doorway. "What, did he send you to finish the job?" he asked._

" _Uh, no. No, not at all. Here. Drink this," the woman came forward, and he could see her properly. She wore a fine golden dress. It was quite decorative and seemed to be more of an evening gown than anything. Was she the lady of this house? Did the Dark One have a wife? Whoever she was, she gave him water, and the taste of it on his tongue—clearing his mouth of blood—was restoring. A part of him wondered if this was a wild trick. The kind, caring woman to put his mind at ease . . . until the Dark One returned and shattered him in his vulnerability. "I couldn't let him go on with this. It's inhuman."_

" _Aye. I couldn't agree more," Robin sputtered with a small laugh. "But I fear now he'll turn his wrath on you."_

 _The woman moved to the rope holding him up, untying the knot on the wall. "If he does, I'll stand up to the beast that he is, because no one deserves to be tortured." The knot was loosened, and the ropes released him. His arms gave way, and Robin fell to the ground with a grunt on his back. Feeling slowly returned to his arms, but only after the intense discomfort of tingling. Flexing his hands to help return the blood to them, he watched as the woman crouched beside him and unlocked the chains around his wrists._

" _He may beg to differ," Robin told her, rubbing his wrists once the chains were removed. They were sore and red. Once he was clear of this place, he'd have to rub a balm into them to ensure they did not become infected._

" _Well, I don't care. He doesn't frighten me," she said simply. Robin considered her for a moment. Those were brave words. Who was this woman who laughed in the face of the Dark One? He wasn't sure he had ever met a braver soul. "Hurry up," she urged him. "He'll be back soon."_

 _With her aid, he was helped back to his feet. Despite the swimming in his head, Robin pushed himself towards the door. Concern arose for his newfound friend again. "But he will kill you," he said, looking back at her. Unless you run away with me," he suggested. He could find a place of safety for her. Hell, he could use her in his Merry band. She was braver than all of his men put together._

" _I can't run," the woman replied. "I made a deal to serve him in exchange for him protecting my kingdom and my family from the ogres. If I were to leave, I may survive, but my family surely won't." Brave_ and _noble. He hoped the Dark One did not corrupt the goodness that was so obviously blazoning in her heart._

" _All I can do is wish you luck," he told her in a quieter tone._

" _Thank-you. Now go. Go!"_

 _Robin nearly took a step out the door, then stopped. "Wait. What is your name, my lady?" he asked her. "I would remember my savior."_

 _She smiled at that. "My name is Belle."_

" _Belle," Robin repeated and took her hand in his, shaking it firmly. "It is an honor to meet you, Belle. Call me Robin." She smiled at him, then lightly pushed him in the direction of freedom. Robin nodded at her and rushed out of the room. He leaned against the walls, trying to save his strength. The wise thing would have been to head for the nearest exist . . . but he was here for a reason, and he wasn't leaving without it. Robin made his way back to the study._

 _There, where he had found it and taken it—and obviously where Rumple had replaced it—was the healing wand. Picking it up, he ran it over himself. The fatigue vanished immediately. As did the ache in his head. The blood remained, but there was no longer a source for further bleeding. It worked . . . he just hoped it worked on Marian. Escaping the castle, he found his horse grazing in some uncovered grass and mounted. "Come on, chap, it's time we returned to Sherwood." As he raced down the path, the horse's hooves matched the rhythm of his frantic prayers that he was not too late to save her._

* * *

Instead of gifting Granny's Diner with their patronage, the subject matter of their conversation was likely to be less than kid-friendly, so Robin met Killian at The Rabbit Hole. It was his first time in the pub, and he was beginning to wonder why he hadn't set foot in here before. The alcohol choice was far more expansive than what Granny offered. He had taken his select choice of whiskey and huddled himself into a booth, waiting for Killian. Robin's mood had not much shifted since the end of his conversation with Regina. He was stuck . . . frustratingly stuck.

"Welcome to one of my favorite haunts," he heard Killian's voice and looked up to find the pirate joining him with a mug full of . . . some sort of dark alcohol. Slipping into the opposite side of the booth, he brought his mug to his lips and took a large gulp. He was a happy man. Robin could see it clearly. The envy in his heart grew ten-fold. "I saw you speaking to Regina . . . I don't suppose you two managed to figure out a means to be together."

Robin gave a sad smile. "Quite the opposite, actually," he said quietly, almost inaudible. "She told me I need to forget about her and fall in love with Marian again." Killian winced at that. "If I was a good man . . . a good husband . . . I'd be doing that right now. But I can't," he broke off, his heart aching, "I can't stop thinking about her," he admitted in a whisper.

Killian, after taking another big gulp of his drink, set it down on the table and put his hand and hook on the table. "Then don't. Go after her. Your wife is an ice cube, mate. An ice cube who likely isn't going to thaw. You love Regina, aye?" Robin nodded sullenly. "Then love her. Take it from me, mate, wasting time is doing no one any favors."

"It isn't that simple," Robin sighed.

"Isn't it?" Killian interrupted before Robin could say anything further. "You love her. You don't love Marian. Marian is, and I'm sorry for how blunt this is going to sound, for all intents and purposes—dead. Be with Regina. The only thing getting in the way is you and your bloody honor."

Robin snorted. "I thought that was something you were trying to acquire."

Killian shrugged with a charming grin. "I have my good days and my bad days. It's alright for you to have a bad day, too. Making a mistake—if it even is a mistake—doesn't make a hero suddenly a villain."

"Depends on what the mistake was," Robin argued, bringing his glass back to his lips and taking a needed draught. The sharp burn helped ease the ache in his chest and throat. "I'm weary of the subject. I'll contemplate further . . . likely when I'm not getting drunk," he added with a wistful look at his glass. "Your date with Emma . . . Were you a gentleman?" Robin asked, his lips pulling into a smirk.

Killian grinned back at him. "A gentleman does not kiss and tell, right? Well . . . there was most certainly a great deal of kissing." Robin chuckled at the twinkle in Hook's eye. "But it was our first date. I'm anxious to take things slowly. Swan is still healing from her last dabble with love. I don't want to make a mistake based on impulsive desires. She'll tell me when the time is right . . . but I would not have hated it had been it the other night." This time they laughed together.

"God, it's been years since I've shared anyone's bed," Robin sighed, feeling the absence of that quite keenly. He'd been brought up a good Christian boy when he was a lad. That and his father had made it clear what would happen to any bastards he produced. After the Crusades, he had been too angry . . . too lost. Then Marian had come into his life, and she had lifted him into a higher form of life. Their first time had both been together. After she had died, he had been too heartbroken and riddled with grief and guilt to even look at a woman in that way. Then Roland had grown and . . . there just hadn't been opportunity. Enter Regina, and he felt that absence of sex hit him like a wall.

"Really. I thought you and Regina had knocked a few headboards," Killian mentioned in surprise.

"Mm," Robin smiled and shook his head. "No. We came close a few times, but I think . . . we felt it was too soon yet. Certainly not for lack of desire," he breathed in, sitting back against the booth. "She could seduce Friar Tuck into switching religions," he smirked. Killian gave a nod to the side, taking another drink.

"You should have seen her when she strut around as the Evil Queen," Killian smirked. "Cleavage for days."

Robin chuckled. "Back in that Missing Year, I met her as such. I won't lie and say I didn't hope that she might have held onto a few dresses." The two men chuckled at that, knowing smirks shared. He sobered a little though, staring into the orange hue of his glass. "I'm in trouble, mate," he breathed.

Killian, to his credit, nodded at him. "I know you are, mate."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Robin confessed.

"Well," Killian gestured to the bartender for a refill, "first things first . . . you're going to drink at least another six rounds with me. If some bold and daring plan hasn't arrived by then . . . we'll order some more!" Robin smiled in spite of himself and clinked his glass against Killian's mug in cheers. Tonight, at least, he could pretend he was just another bloke drinking with his best mate. Saving Marian could wait one more day.

* * *

 _Where were they? His temporary stay in the Dark One's castle had delayed him an extra day. She could be dead now, for all he knew, because of the extra time. Robin fretted as he waited behind a tree. The healing wand was gripped between his two hands, and he squeezed it nervously. This part of the forest wasn't safe. It was closer to Nottingham, and so the Sheriff and his cronies didn't fear searching this part of the woods for him and his Merry band._

 _But desperate times had called for desperate measures. In an effort to save some time, Friar Tuck had agreed to wheel Marian this far—to save him from having to travel into the heart of the forest to reach her. Yet where were they? Robin felt eyes all around him. Were they in his head? Or was the Sheriff also lurking behind one of these trees?_

 _The sound of horses suddenly caught his ear, and he looked behind the tree to see a wagon pulling up down the road. At last! Rushing over to it, he found Marian deathly pale. "Marian," he breathed, brushing his hand through her hair. "Hold on just a moment longer." Taking the wand, he ran it just above her body, from head-to-toe, and then back up. The color returned to her face immediately, and she opened her eyes._

" _Marian," he called, feeling tears sting his eyes. "Marian, are you alright?"_

" _Robin?" she called blearily. "Where am I? What's happened?"_

 _Suddenly, an arrow shot into the wagon just above Marian's head. The Sheriff! "Come, we must go," Robin urged her and carefully helped her off of the wagon. They'd never escape with that thing dragging behind them. "Easy now." Robin led her to his horse and helped her climb atop it. Mounting behind her, he held her tightly back against him and kicked the horse into a gallop through the forest. He was anxious to ride too hard. Marian was heavily pregnant, and riding so stressfully wouldn't have been good for their baby._

 _As soon as he determined that they were not being followed, he slowed the horse and moved off, giving Marian more room. Taking the horse's reins by hand, he led him towards their home. "Was I ill?" Marian asked finally. "I remember feeling hot and nauseas . . . and then nothing."_

" _You were ill," Robin affirmed, "but I found a way to heal you," he said, smiling up at her. Relief was making his legs shaky, and he took a moment to rest against the horse. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," he told her softly. He felt her hand lightly touch the top of his head._

" _It is odd to see you this way. Show me my husband," Marian told him, a mirthful tone in her voice._

 _Robin had nearly forgotten about the glamor. Taking it out, he turned it and released the spell. "Better?" he smiled up at her, and she took his face in her hands, carefully leaning down to kiss him._

" _I'm not sure. Maybe you should put that glamor back on," she teased him before urging the horse forward herself. Robin chuckled and walked beside her, his head resting against her knee. He would not speak to her of the torture he had endured to save her. The price was nothing compared to her life. He'd do it—and more—again to ensure her safety and health. She was everything to him._


	4. Creating Stars

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy Halloween! A treat for all of you. Enjoy!**

* * *

Directionless walks in the forest were not uncommon for Robin. Sherwood Forest had provided so well for him that Robin sometimes wondered if he had a special communion with woodlands. He liked to think so. He respected such places, and in return, they always seemed to help him in his time of need. Countless times, he'd had the Sheriff of Nottingham or some other such foe right on his heels, but after a few turns in the forest, he'd be lost to them—as if the trees had deliberately moved themselves to confuse his pursuers. This was not something he had ever witnessed, but he felt it in his heart that the ancient trees were looking out for him. As such, now and then, he spent time simply walking through the glades and thick wooden labyrinths—quiet with his thoughts.

It was one of those rare walks of communion that he found himself on presently. Armed with just the clothes on his back, he had chosen a direction at random from his camp and started walking. There was something healing that could be found in immersing oneself in nature. Admiring the growth of a sapling, or running a finger along a leaf, not quite disturbing, but falling into line with the rhythm of the forest. He felt connected to every tree and to every root. Connections were mutual, and so before he knew it, he found himself entering a familiar graveyard.

Robin was quite certain he had not headed in the direction of the graveyard, but his feet—or the forest—had pushed him in this direction all the same. It seemed the forest knew his heart better than he did. Sighing lightly, he left the tree line and crossed the graveyard to the large mausoleum that stood ominously in the middle of the cemetery. Yet, as he opened the door and started down the steps, Robin did not feel chills of morbidity nor of disturbance. When he turned the corner, he was not surprised at all to find Regina within, perched atop a chest and reading a book.

"You're not very good at staying away," she commented without looking up from her book.

Robin gave an almost embarrassed smile. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you how I got here. I was walking in the forest and . . . my heart led me here." Or those pesky trees did. It was rather a toss-up at this point. His words obviously didn't please her. He heard her sigh and look up from her book with a strained expression.

"This isn't fair of you," she told him. The smile left his lips, and he lowered his gaze. He knew that. "Whatever your heart is doing, Robin, you need to stop it. She's your wife, and you need to help her." She was right on that mark, too. Regina rose, smoothing her hands over her snugly-fit red dress. Really, did she have to look so . . . spectacular? "And frankly, you're hurting me." His expression hardened at that, and he moved to speak, to console, but she made a movement with her hands to gesture silence. "This coming around is . . . it's torture," she stated. "This isn't just about Marian. My . . . my heart is all mixed up in this, too. It . . . it would just be easier if you forgot about me and focused on her. Staying away is what we both need." Robin's heart ached at her words. It was as if she had asked him to lift the world and carry it on his shoulders. "You can do this, Robin. You loved her once. I'm . . . I'm sure you can do it again." Regina passed him, leaving the vault—and him—behind.

For awhile, he remained there, breathing in the scent of perfume and soap she had left behind. He would have preferred to inhale it in the crook of her neck, but he had to deny himself that pleasure. Robin knew he had come to a crossroads. His paths led to opposite women. Duty compelled him to choose the one . . . love compelled him to another. Closing his eyes, he imprinted this scent into his memory. If he was to live without, he wanted to make sure he could return to the pleasant dream whenever he wished.

Reopening his eyes, he scratched his forehead irritably. "God, I need a drink . . ."

* * *

" _Ah, there's that lovebird," the familiar drawl of Will Scarlet reached his ear. Robin turned his gaze—which had been locked on Marian—to his friend. "Really, mate, you should stop staring. You'll scare her off."_

 _Robin chuckled and gestured for Will to join him at the campfire. "You'll understand when you find a woman of your own. It's difficult to look away from beauty."_

" _Blegh," Will made a face. "Such flowery talk. And just so you knows, I see beauty a great deal."_

" _I mean not the kind you pay for," Robin jibed, making a jab at him. Will's nocturnal activities were rather well-known in the camp. Robin wasn't one to delegate how Will spend his share of their meager income. He left that to Friar Tuck. However, that did not mean that Will was free from his teasing about it._

" _Har-Har, mate," Will made a face at him. "You looked mighty thoughtful past all of the drooling though. What's going on in that head of yours, Locksley?"_

" _Mm," Robin grunted, and he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice lowered, and he glanced around to ensure that no one was within earshot. "I . . . I've been circulating around the thought of asking Marian to marry me."_

 _Will's lips split into a wide grin, and he slapped his shoulder. "No kidding! About time, if you ask me. You two sure do have a great deal of willpower. I'd marry and bed her in a week," he told him, "if she was mine, I mean."_

 _Robin snorted. "You're lucky she puts up with you at all." He paused, "you are right though. I should have married her a week after I met her. I knew I loved her . . . that our lives could only lead in the direction of the altar. But between all of the jobs and running around . . . I just haven't had the time nor the opportunity, and," he bit his lip, a frown line appearing between his brows and at his lips. "And I wonder if it would be right."_

 _Will looked at him in confusion. "Right to . . . what? Marry her? Of course it bloody would, Robin. She loves you."_

" _I know she does," Robin murmured, "that isn't what makes me hesitate. It's just . . . this life we lead. It isn't made for a woman like her. Marian is tough, I give her that. She's a hell of a lot stronger than me. But this constant danger and living in poor conditions with meager means to get by . . . She deserves more than that. She bloody deserves a castle and a knight. And if she ever wanted to have children? How could we raise them here? Like this? It isn't safe for them, and it'd give my enemies the perfect target." Robin released a heavy sigh. "It'd be selfish of me to ask her to marry me. She's already given up so much."_

" _And you'd ask her to give up love, too?" Will asked with a scoff. "Robin, all that stuff is exactly that . . . stuff. Marian has never been interested in stuff. What matters is right here," he tapped his chest. "You can weather anything so long as that fire lives in your heart."_

 _Robin was silent, considering Will's words. It was a nice thought, certainly, that love was enough. Was it though? It had kept her with him this long, but after years passed, would she still look at him warmly as he ran off on another dangerous job? Would she come to resent him as he placed their children in danger time and time again? Could he stomach that himself? Retirement was out of the question. There were still so many suffering villages out there, and so long as he had the strength, he needed to help them._

" _Mate, it would be selfish to deny her this. She's been waiting an awful long time to marry you," Will continued. "Of course, with the marrying also comes the shagging, and if you're worried she'll leave you because you're piss-poor in bed, then I understand." Robin caught the shit-eating grin on his face._

" _Well. When you put it like that, I suppose I have no choice," Robin smirked. He bit his lip again and winced. "Do you think she'll say yes?"_

 _Will grinned. "Only one way to find out."_

* * *

WHACK! WHACK! CLUNK! An irritated sigh accompanied the sound of unsuccessful darts as they either hit the board from far its mark or slammed into the wall. His aim was off. His aim was never bloody off. Yet, at the moment, he couldn't make a single damn shot. Robin picked up a dart and rolled it between his two fingers. Concentrating, he aimed for the bull's eye . . . and grunted when the dart hit the board outside of the target area completely. His heart wasn't there—wasn't in it. Ignoring the next dart, he picked up his glass of scotch instead.

Perhaps it was a little early to be drinking, but Robin could care less. It was risky—his drinking. There had been a dark time where alcohol had consumed his life. He had sworn to himself—and to his son—never to allow himself to walk that path again. But god did he ever have a reason to now. The burn of the scotch smarted, and he felt the heat of it as he breathed. It didn't quite make his vision swim—he wasn't there yet—but it was certainly making him warm.

Regina's words ran through his mind over and over. Forget her. Love his wife. The only way he could forget Regina was if he took some sort of forgetting potion. He was sure Regina had one. But that was the easy way out. More importantly, the simple truth of the matter was that he didn't want to forget. Though what he had shared with Regina had been brief—just a few weeks—he had sampled enough of her love to become addicted. Besides that, there was just something incredibly natural that he shared with her that he had never felt with another person before. Nothing was forced or faked. He wanted to please her and make her happy, simply because he couldn't stand the sadness that clung to her eyes and lips.

They haunted him—those eyes—night and day. They could make a man feel like he owned the world . . . or like he was worth nothing more than dirt. He knew which he felt now. Gripping his dart at last, he prepared to throw it, but the ring of the diner's bell had him glance towards the door. A familiar figure was quickly retreating back out, but he shot the dart right next to his head. Will Scarlet. He hadn't seen that piece of shite since he had nearly gotten his men killed. Will turned almost guiltily and gave him a small wave. "Robin, didn't see you there. Long time no see, eh?"

"Sit," Robin ordered without ceremony. Leaving the rest of the darts where they were, he moodily gestured for Will to sit next to him at the counter. "Sorry about the door, Granny," he offered to the diner owner, who gave him a look of reproach.

"I'll just add the damage to your tab," she replied and poured them both a glass of the scotch he had picked. "I only have everyone's tab running still for more than thirty years," she grunted to herself, moving away to finish someone's order.

Robin allowed a brief, humorless smile to appear on his lips before taking the glass and guzzling down a healthy dose of alcohol. Will winced beside him, looking him over. He likely looked drunk. Will had seen him in his bad state before. Was he having flashbacks of that time now? Did he worry that he was relapsing to that dark period of his life? Robin was spiraling certainly, but a vow had been a vow. Just like his wedding vows had been a vow.

"Listen," Will said at last. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. For what I did. It wasn't right. I know that. But I'm a changed man. Doing good. And I want to make amends. To you and the Merry Men." Robin glanced at him.

"You nearly killed us all. For what? A woman? Where is she now?" he asked him pointedly.

Will's face fell, and he looked down. "I . . . lost her." Robin was silent as Will explained to him how he had fled the Enchanted Forest with his lady love, Anastasia, to a place called Wonderland. It sounded rather floofy to Robin. But the tale was quite extraordinary. There was a villain named Jafar, and the woman Will loved had been part of Jafar's evil plan, but then she had switched sides, and she had died, and he had brought her back, but then she had died again. It was obvious the ordeal had been quite emotional for him. Robin gripped his shoulder comfortingly. "Enough about my problems though," Will gave a brave smile. "I heard you're in a bit of a pickle yourself."

"That's putting it lightly," Robin murmured. "I find myself standing between two women with my arms stretched for both. You know Marian. You know what she meant to me. What I was like after she died."

Will nodded. "You were a downright mess, mate."

"And then I moved on. I mourned her. But I moved on. I had to. I couldn't be the sad father for Roland. He deserved more than just a dad who looked at him and was in pain by how much he reminded him of his wife." Robin scratched his temple, his thumb running along the rim of his glass with his other hand. "And then I met Regina and everything just . . . clicked. I didn't fall in love. It was gentler than that. Easier. I just breathed, and she was inhaled right into my heart."

Will snorted. "Always the poet. So go get her then."

"Not that easy. I'm still married to Marian," Robin reminded him. "And for her, she's only been away from me for a week or so. She doesn't understand what I went through. And it wouldn't be right to abandon her in a place so different from home." He paused. "And . . . it's more than that. Did I ever tell you the story of how I met Marian?" Will answered, but Robin was already progressing into his story. "I stole her family's horse. I didn't need it. I was just a two-bit thief. I woke up with an arrow pointed at my head and received the scolding of my life. I was so ashamed. The next day, I brought her back all the horses I owned. Shortly after that, I started courting her. But she made me the man I am today. Regina would never have given the man I was a second glance. I owe Marian for putting me on a higher path." Robin was unable to speak after this. The torment was too great. He knew what he needed to do, but the thought of barring himself from Regina was too painful to imagine.

Will was silent for half a minute. "It wasn't easy for her, you know. Being with us. I asked her once why she did it. Why she put up with it all. 'There's good in him, Will,' she said to me. 'And when you see the good in someone, you don't give up on them. Especially if they don't see it themselves. And if you're ever lucky enough to find true love you fight for it every day.'" Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps it was telling. But Will's words did not conjure Marian's face in his mind. All he saw was Regina.

"Do you believe that?" he asked Will quietly, finishing his glass afterwards.

"Mate, if you find someone to ruin your life for, it's always worth it." He gave a cheeky wink after this and clapped his shoulder before moving away and leaving the diner. Robin didn't watch him go. His gaze was transfixed on a spot on the countertop. He knew just who he wanted to ruin his life with . . .

* * *

" _And I vow to spend the rest of my life honoring you, protecting you, loving you and adhering to your counsel," Robin repeated after Friar Tuck. His heart was full. Life had twisted and turned to this one moment. This was the culmination of everything, he knew it—his happy ending. Robin's hands squeezed Marian's, and when she smiled so brilliantly at him, a single liquid diamond rolled down from the corner of his eye and across his cheek. He loved her so._

" _I take you, Robin of Locksley, to be my wedded husband. And I vow to spend the rest of my life honoring you, protecting you, loving you and adhering to your counsel," she repeated in kind. Their fingers interlaced, wedding ring pressed against wedding ring. Robin glanced at the Friar, and with a wink from him, he grinned and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Marian's lips. With the kiss, they were sealed as husband and wife._

 _Cheers broke out from within the small church. His Merry Men and her family were gathered in the pews, some crying, but all smiling. Robin stepped back from Marian, and he chuckled embarrassedly at the wolf whistles given to them by Will and Little John. With her hand secured on his arm, Robin led her down the aisle, and they exited the church amid tossed flowers and rippling banners. The sun seemed extra bright, and the flowers shone brilliantly._

 _He felt as though he could slip right into the clouds and never touch the ground again. "If you keep smiling like that, your face is going to be stuck," Marian teased him._

" _I'm afraid that fate is already assured. You're my wife. You've given me the greatest honor anyone could ever impart." Robin gave her a cheeky grin. "I do hope you know what you've agreed to."_

 _Marian hummed, squeezing his arm. "You mean a life of adventure, love and family? What have I done to myself?" Robin chuckled warmly, leading her towards the horse that would carry them off to a secluded home where they'd spend the next few weeks. Before they could reach their mount, however, those from within the church—and those without—crowded in around them to congratulate them personally._

 _Robin felt a firm squeeze to his shoulder and turned to find Will with a knowing smirk on his lips. "Alright, go on. You can say it."_

 _Will gave a quick grin but shook his head. "You have yourself a fine woman there, Robin. Treat her properly."_

 _A scoff left his lips at that. "You're one to speak," Robin replied, noticing two—or was it three?—women already crowding in around Will. The thief gave a shrug and a wink._

" _Well, some of us aren't quite meant for the marriage game. Enjoy though," Will wrapped his arms around two of the ladies, giving him one last wink before moving off through the crowd to celebrate his own party. Robin shook his head, chuckling lightly. He had no idea how Will could lure them in so easily. He'd get himself into trouble with how easily he could do it one day. A few of the other Merry Men shook his hand or hugged him before he was finally able to break free. Marian was already atop the horse, and the look she affixed on him when he neared had him quickening his step. Tonight was going to be the best bloody night of his life._

* * *

The flush of alcohol was strong in him. The long walk had sobered him up mostly, but the 'liquid courage' was still singing in his veins. A look of stubborn determination was set in his jaw and in his eyes. Perhaps it was the wrong decision, perhaps this would ruin things forever, but Robin knew in his very bones that everything was leading him to this moment. He wanted to ruin his life with the only person he knew he would be safe with.

Walking down the steps of the vault, he found her in a similar place and position as before. "Why am I getting a sense of Déjà vu?" she inquired, hitting it rather on the nose.

He did not let her throw him off though. Robin plunged right into it. "Regina. I have lived by a code my entire life: Steal from the rich and give to the poor, be truthful, righteous and good. I have tried to live by that code every day of my life."

Regina set aside her book, looking at him in confusion. "Then why are you here?" she asked him.

"Because today is not one of those days," he answered and fell into her. Desperation fueled his kiss when he first touched his lips upon hers. There was a begging—a pleading—not to be turned away. Not now. Not when the kiss healed the frayed ends of his soul. How could this be wrong when it felt like this? When it felt as though everything satisfyingly clicked into place? It took her a second, perhaps because of shock, before she returned his kiss.

It was all Robin needed to drop his hands from her face and wrap them around her waist. Pulling her up against him, he deepened the kiss. She gave a warm sigh, and he was able to quickly slip his tongue into the sweet cave of her mouth. His mind swirled at the simple pleasure he received from her lips alone. He had been born to kiss this woman . . . and she to kiss him. Robin felt it in his very soul—their kiss could create a universe.

Small hands lightly pressed to his waist and back—unsure, at first. Yet as he felt her tongue slide across his, her mouth slanting to give him access to more, he also felt her hands grip onto his vest and shirt, pulling him tighter into her. A low moan left his lips, rumbling through his chest against her. She gave an echoing sigh and pressed her hips to his. His blood was pumping furiously, molten lava surging in one direction. His mind was hazy, and he felt ten times more drunk now than he had at Granny's.

"Regina," he managed to pant against her lips, their breath coming heavily and hot. His lips were wet and swollen from the furious activity. She was savage in her kissing, rough and consuming. A good thing that being consumed was precisely what he wanted.

"Yes," she gave a trembling gasp in reply. Robin hadn't even realized he had been asking her, but at her answer, he moved into action immediately. Her vault left much to be desired in terms of comfortable places to rest upon. And since his lips refused to be away from hers for very long, Robin found himself dragging them across her vault, stumbling into a few things as he blindly searched for something to lay her upon. A few chuckles and giggles were shared between them at their haste and bungling attempts. With impatience beginning to run high, Robin just grabbed a blanket and laid it over the floor.

Swiping his arm under her legs, he knelt and laid her down properly. Her eyes were warm and glittering as they looked up at him, and his heart hammered in his chest with joy and desire. Again, their lips fused, and he moaned loudly when her tongue took over the play. She was quite the insistent woman. As her hands moved to play with his hair—an action that had him trembling with desire and affection—he worked at the zipper on her dress. As much as he enjoyed this particular dress on her, it was long past time that they revealed to one another the vulnerable vessels that held the other part of their soul.

As he ran the zipper down the line of her dress, his mouth kissed along her jaw to her neck. Regina gave a sharp cry and clutched onto the back of his shirt. An amused chuckle left his lips. "Sensitive, I see," he purred, giving the large pulsing vein in her neck a long lick. Regina gasped and jerked against him, her nails digging into his back through his shirt. This was quite a pleasant discovery. Robin exploited it, his lips attaching and sucking heavily into the crook of her neck. As she squirmed and moaned underneath him, he finished pulling her zipper down and began to extricate her from her dress.

Once it was removed, he felt her tense. Lifting away from her neck, he checked her face. She was biting her lip and looking a little nervous now. Robin immediately kissed her until such fears—whatever they might be—were put to rest. "Regina, you are absolutely stunning," he whispered to her, pressing his forehead to hers, so their eyes were locked. "There isn't a single facet—body or soul—that I find ugly." Her eyes misted, and he saw that look grow in them that always made his heart catch and skip a beat. It was there—never spoken yet—but present in her eyes all the same: Love.

Their kiss was tender this time, unrushed and patient. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and she stroked through his hair. It was only when she started to pull at his vest that he knew she was comfortable once more. Sitting up on his knees, he allowed himself to look at her properly. Clad in lacy black lingerie, he hummed his warm approval. Robin ran a large hand—calloused from life—between her breasts and down her smooth tummy. She sighed at the simple, intimate, touch. Regina was all curves and valleys and plateaus. She was a map that his fingers itched to memorize.

"Touch me," she breathed, both desperate and timid. Robin understood well. It was no secret that she had had her share of men . . . but few—if any—had actually touched her with sincere love and affection. Robin needed to make her feel—know—just how loved she was. Reaching under her—her body giving a little arch to aid him—he undid the clasp of her bra. Sliding it away, he nearly moaned at the sight of her breasts. She was perfection carved from Beauty itself.

"Regina, I . . ." A part of him almost didn't want to touch her, afraid that he would mar this perfection with his own imperfection. But the insistent arch of her body had the words stick in his throat. Instead, he could only breathe, "I love you." His hands finally cupped her breasts, feeling them fill his hands. That was for his benefit, not her own. To please her, he focused strictly on her nipples—which were already hard and pert. The tip of his finger rubbed into the very tip of her nipple, massaging and scratching. Regina gasped sharply at the sensation, her hips bucking up towards him.

Robin hummed in approval at her reaction, stroking her faster. "Robin!" she gasped throatily, her voice hoarse with lust. She clawed at his arms, tugging at his vest. Chuckling, he lowered his head and kissed over her left breast, pulling the hard nub into his mouth and sucking lightly. She cooed and held the back of his head, her fingernails lightly scratching into his scalp and making him dizzy with his own desire. Heat was building quickly between them, and in an effort for relief—and because he no longer ignore her insistent hands—he removed his vest and white shirt.

". . . Oh . . ." Regina said as she examined him, as if she was surprised at what she saw. Her hands came to rest at his chest, then curiously palmed over the hard muscle of his arms and stomach. It was true that he was a larger build for one's standard archer. His arms were a given—it took some strength to use a longbow, after all. The rest had come about strictly through his activities. Climbing, running, rough-housing, fighting. One could not live the life he had without acquiring muscle over time. To Robin's pleasure, Regina seemed to delight in it.

As she stroked along the hollows of his shoulders, he was busying himself in kissing down her tummy. When he did not stop at her belly button, her hands gripped his shoulders. "Robin?" she called, a tone of uncertainty in her voice.

Pressing a line of kisses along the hem of her panties, he glanced up at her. Fear shown in her eyes. "Do you wish for me to stop?" he asked her gently, eyes locked on hers.

"N-no, but . . . but are you sure?" she asked him, and he saw a tint of red growing in her cheeks. Her shyness was adorable to him. This was a woman who oozed sexual confidence, and here she was, nervous about receiving a few intimate kisses to her sensitive little flower.

"Very," Robin replied, and his own confidence only made that shade of red on her face glow darker. Chuckling lightly, he hooked the sides of her panties in his fingers and pulled down slowly, giving her plenty of time and opportunity to stop him if she so wished. But the lace came off, and she only breathed heavier as he spread her legs just a little. Robin felt quite the stroke to his ego when he found her glistening already. Their snogging had had quite the effect on her. She was not, of course, alone in that regard. His trousers were uncomfortably tight as well.

Robin eased her, pressing gentle and tender kisses into her thighs first. Her hands slowly moved from his shoulders to his hair. When he heard her breathing a bit easier, he turned his chin just a little to the right and ran his tongue along her wet slit. Regina cried out and sat up, looking down at him wide-eyed. Her strong reaction made him realize something. "You've never experienced this before, have you?" he asked her. Regina bit her lip and shook her head. Leaning up just a little, he kissed her tenderly and reassuringly. "Lay back," he whispered to her, easing her back down with kisses and caresses. She sighed and rested back, her hands moving back to his hair.

Robin pressed a kiss to her slit this time, and listened to her accompanying sigh. He was quite pleased with how sweet she tasted. There was a musk flavor as well, but by and large, she was his own flavor of honey. And he was starving. Robin licked her outer walls extensively, priming her, and only when he felt her slickness increase, did he finally slide his tongue inside of her. Regina groaned low, her legs twitching for a moment before closing around his head to keep him there. A short chuckle left his lips. He thought she might enjoy this. Robin watched her as he drew his tongue in and out of her, twisting his flexible tongue into places likely untouched before.

The sounds she was making him assured him that she was enjoying it. "Robin!" came every now and then, along with a sharp cry or moan. She was so warm, and he could feel her pulsing already around his tongue. Her hands tightened in his hair, holding on for dear life. Robin probed and set up a rhythm, giving her a heated fuck with his tongue. "Yes, yes, oh my god yes," she breathed, her body impulsively jerking down now and then against his face.

She was spiraling quickly, if the increase in pulsing was anything to go by. Robin drew his attention to her clit—which was swollen and eager for attention. The second his tongue lapped over it, she was crying out loudly—the sound echoing in the vault. "OH! There, Robin, there!" He focused on that spot alone, sucking and licking her thoroughly. Regina was breathing heavier, and he watched her breasts rise and fall rapidly, her tummy clench . . . and then her thighs shook on either side of him, her hands grabbed and pulled his hair in a manner that would have hurt had he not been so damned aroused by the sight of her orgasming.

A cry—broken and strained—came from her lips, and she arched just a little as it washed over her. Robin could feel her fluttering around his tongue, and he moaned hungrily, trying to extend her pleasure for as long as he could. Her 'honey' had increased ten-fold, and he licked her up, cleaning her and relishing in his victory. "Oh my . . ." she breathed softly as she came down, her legs falling to either side. Her hands released his hair as well, smoothing through the strands instead. "A girl could get addicted to that," she gave a low, husky laugh.

Robin returned it, grinning almost smugly up at her. "Just wait until you see what I can do with my fingers," he informed her. The life of a thief had made them quick, agile . . . and dexterous. Regina was quite warmed up now, if her hungry-grin was anything to go by. She was pulling him upwards, and he eagerly went. Their lips and tongues tangled, Regina moaning when she tasted herself on his tongue. She had become a livewire now that she had been opened to pleasure. Her hips were rubbing against him, grinding with such delicious friction, that he was moaning heavily into her mouth.

"Fuck, Regina," he swore against her lips as she practically humped against him, the sensation driving him wild. Grunting, he bit her lower lip in an effort to still her, but that only made her burn hotter. Her hands fell to his belt, undoing it and practically clawing him out of his trousers. Robin, thoroughly aroused, helped her until he was kicking free of his boxers as well. Relief came immediately as he was freed from the restricting fabric. Regina was not shy now. Boldly, she grabbed his cock and gave him a hard pump that had him crying out and stiffening further.

"Regina Mills," he growled, his mind heated, lust blinding him. She grinned naughtily at him, and he urged her back, grabbing her hips in the process and yanking her down to meet him. She laughed and pressed her hands against his chest, holding onto him. Robin angled himself with ease, lightly pressing his tip against her entrance. Biting his lip, he slowly pressed inside of her, his jaw soon dropping as he sank into her inch-by-inch.

It was a holy experience. There was no other way to describe it. The both of them looked at each other in surprise at just how _good_ it felt. "Robin," she almost whimpered.

"I know," he breathed, his hands moving to hers. They held fast, and they looked into each other's eyes as he started to move slowly back and forth. This pleasure was not just of the body. It was of the _soul._ Stars were aligning and trumpets were blaring. Decay was flushing into new life, and worlds went through Genesis. Their souls were united.

After their initial shock wore off, Robin picked up his rhythm. Each stroke was given deep and with intent to make her _feel_ it. Regina's legs spread wide, moans flowing freely from her lips. "God, Regina," he prayed, pleasure throbbing through him. Every thrust was a sharp stab of brilliant, white pleasure. Holding their hands up above her head, he stretched them out. His chest pressed to hers, and he could feel her hard nipples scratching against his skin. It was a delicious contrast to the smooth silk he was stroking himself inside of.

"More," she demanded, her eyes black with lust. "Fuck me, Robin."

"Fuck!" he cried in reply, his hips following her order of their own will more than his. His cock started to pound her deep, sending her eyes rolling back into her head. Her body arched under him, allowing him deeper access that increased his own pleasure. The friction built and built, and she soon started moving against him, meeting his thrusts. Her body bounced underneath him, sliding up a little on the blanket. Robin groaned and pressed down harder on her to keep her from moving. She gasped and released one of his hands to grab around his shoulders, securing herself.

"Robin . . . Robin, I . . . UGGFUUCK!" she bellowed, her voice rising in pitch. Robin felt her undulate harshly around him, and he cried out as she gripped and seemed to only suck him deeper inside of her through her orgasm. Pressed tight against her, he moved erratically, his pleasure taking over his body's movements. There was only the need to thrust and nothing else. Regina was moaning and crying out somewhere, and he was certain he was shouting, too, but that was all back noise compared to the rush of ecstasy flowing deafening him.

His body was tightening, and with each hard pulse her body gave, he clamped tighter still. Raggedly, he breathed until he was toppling over the edge. A rough grunt and groan left his lips as he strained, his seed bursting from him and filling her. Regina gasped and held him to her, her hips moving quickly against him to aid in his release. Robin was stiff and still as he emptied, the sharp prickles and tingles of his orgasm rolling over his skin. The powerful wave moved on, leaving him breathless and drenched with sweat. They were both soaked and panting and flushed.

Her tender hands pulled him down to her, caressing over his back as they breathed together. Tucking his head under her chin, they rested and relaxed and reflected on the powerful connection they had shared. The hand that was still entwined with hers, Robin used to tenderly draw shapes into the palm of her hand. He hummed and smiled against her when she pressed a few kisses to his forehead. The love he felt in that moment was incomparable. This was something beyond this world. It was a wonder the amount of love did not burn right through them—melting their flesh and leaving their charred bones behind.

Eventually, when their bodies had cooled enough, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Her eyes were a warm chocolate that had his heart sputtering in his chest. Kissing her, he pushed himself up just a little and gave an experimental grind of his hips. His cock remained inside of her, and the grind made them both groan. "Be careful," she warned him when they parted. "My appetites, once whetted, are difficult to satiate."

Robin lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "Is that so, milady?" He gave a quick thrust, her jaw dropping as a moan was pushed right out of her. Grinning cheekily, he was suddenly pushed over and rolled onto his back. With a gasp, he found himself looking up at her as she straddled him and sank back down on him in seconds. They moaned together at that.

"Hands on the floor, Thief. It's my turn now," she purred and lowered her head to his, her hair falling around them to shield them further from the world. She rocked . . . rolled . . . bounced . . . and Robin knew this was the night of his life.


	5. Page Twenty-Three

Time didn't seem to hold meaning when he woke. He knew it was the next day. Was it morning? Afternoon? Had they slept the entire day away and been brought into night? Robin couldn't tell, nor did he particularly care. What he did care about, however, was that the warm body that had been tangled with his own was no longer there. The heat still clung to the blanket that they had slept upon, so she hadn't left too long ago. Robin took a moment to collect his bearings. His body was still a little sluggish after all she had put him through the night prior.

It was rather easy to say that he had never quite had sex like _that_ before. He hadn't slept so soundly in ages. Yawning, he finally pushed himself up. Another blanket was carefully tucked around him, as if Regina had wanted to make sure he was still covered even after she had gotten up. Underneath the blanket, he was still quite naked. Rubbing his eyes, Robin yawned again and got up, collecting his clothes. His trousers were pulled on, and then his undershirt. Where was she hiding?

Stumbling towards the hall, he found her on the stairs, putting her shoes on. She noticed him and gave him a warm smile. "He's awake."

Her tone suggested that he had, indeed, slept quite late. "Good . . .erm . . . morning?" he questioned, trying to piece together the time by the amount of daylight shining down the stairs.

"Afternoon," she corrected with a gentle smile.

"Mm," he nodded and brushed his hand through his hair, which was slightly messy from sleep and play. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," he said, moving towards her. The desire to be near her was even more prominent after what they had shared. If he was addicted before . . . bloody hell was he in trouble now.

"Not long, no," Regina assured him, finishing her shoes and standing.

Robin immediately closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. His eyes were warm . . . happy . . . but they barely reflected what he felt. There was never a moment in his life when he felt more content and complete than he did now. "I don't know about you, but I'm famished. Must have worked up quite the appetite last night," he hinted, grinning when he saw her knowing smirk. "How about I cook you a nice breakfast at the camp?" he suggested.

"That sounds perfect," she whispered, but he saw the look in her eyes. "But I don't think it would be appropriate," she finished. Robin nodded lightly, the harsh stab of reality trying to break the delicate bubble of love and perfection they were taking shelter within. His hands held her closer to him, refusing to let go just yet. Regina sighed heavily. "If only I had walked into that tavern."

A chuckle left his lips. "I was just a drunk with a tattoo then. I highly doubt I would have been able to capture your heart." He'd had to live a life before he could become the man he was now. Had Regina met the man he was before, she'd have been sorely disappointed.

"Still," she murmured, looking down at the tattoo emblazoned on his wrist. "I can't help but think what our lives would have been like if I had. No evil curse. No evil at all. Every mistake I made would have never existed."

Robin caught her eye, holding it firmly. "You made mistakes," he agreed. "But you're learning from them. You're making amends. That takes an incredible sort of person to be able to do that. Most just prefer to bury their heads. Or never change at all. You chose the harder path . . . the right one," he told her. "And I admire the hell out of you for it," he whispered a tad passionately before bringing her to him and kissing her soundly. He felt her sigh and relax in his arms, kissing him back tenderly. Robin lightly moved his hand to her cheek, brushing over the warm skin. Pulling back, he added softly, "we met when our souls were ready to meet. It couldn't have happened any other time. It wouldn't have been right."

Regina scoffed. "This is right?" she gestured around them.

"It isn't perfect," Robin conceded. "But _we_ are. And besides, in that universe, you'd have never been a mother to Henry." Regina seemed to agree with that, giving a small nod. The thief was silent after that, just content in holding her. His heart warmed when she pressed a small kiss to his nose. She was . . . amazing.

But then she pulled away from him. "Even without the obstacle of Marian . . . something would likely always get in our way, anyway. I was destined to fail. Make mistakes. Be the villain." Robin gave her a confused look, and so she took his hand and led him back into the main section of the vault. She pulled out the book he had seen her reading earlier. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, handing the book to him. Robin shook his head, opening it up. His brow furrowed when he saw the contents. It was . . . his own story. He knew this part. He had lived it. Seen it with his own eyes . . . when Will had first joined their company . . .

* * *

 _It was risky . . . but when was thieving never risky? Besides, there was that old saying: No risk, no reward! Robin pulled the stained and worn hood over his head. He was disguised as an old, feeble man, hunched over his walking stick. A large, fake nose was plastered over his own, and he had a long wig of silver and grey hair. Unrecognizable . . . or at least he hoped so._

 _Robin gave a nod to Little John who started pushing his cart of vegetables. It had rained the night before—exactly as they had hoped—and the town's square was riddled with muddy holes. Their target—a lord with a penchant for flogging those who could not pay his demanding taxes—was crossing the market to the stalls selling fine jewelry. The fancy lord could buy quite a few pieces of jewelry, no doubt, with the riches he stole from his people. His time was due._

 _Little John drove his cart quickly over to the lord, and Robin began to hobble over. Perfectly timed, the cart fell into a large puddle, splashing the lord with muddy water. At that same second, Robin bumped into the lord, quickly cutting his purse and shoving it down the long arm of his robe. "Oh, begging yer pardon, m'lord," Robin cried, bowing low._

 _The lord, who had already started shouting at Little John, turned his fury on Robin. "Get out of my sight, you weak-minded fool! Can you not see the damage this ingrate has done to my person!?" Robin was just about to sneak away with their goods—a job well done—when another voice cried out._

" _My lord! That man has stolen from you!" Robin froze, turning to the voice. A soldier was rushing over to them, obviously having seen the entire spectacle. Where had he been!? Why hadn't anyone seen him? Robin clenched his jaw as the lord stopped screaming at Little John and turned to Robin instead. As the townspeople rushed forward to see what the commotion was about, Robin took a few steps back, trying to swallow himself up with the crowd. "HALT!" the soldier shouted after him, and other soldiers came hurrying forward to keep him from escaping._

 _Robin was about to signal an attack when a familiar face brought him pause. Those eyebrows . . . how could he forget those? Will Scarlet! The man winked at Robin, and he felt a brief tug at his arm. Will had pickpocketed_ him _instead. The coin purse was removed from his person. Robin gave himself up to the soldiers immediately. "I've dun nothin' wrong!" he declared, holding his hands up. "Search me!"_

 _The soldiers grabbed him and shoved him back to the lord, who had just noticed that his coin purse was, indeed, missing. The soldiers patted him down, but they produced no coin purse. "See?" Robin scoffed. "Mind who yer accusin' of stealin', laddie," he poked the soldier with the muddy end of his walking stick. "Pattin' an old man like that. And wastin' yer lord's time as well! Clearly, his Lordship has forgotten his purse at home."_

 _The lord, quite perplexed, looked down at his stained clothes. "Yes. I . . . I must have. Well, seeing as I need a new tunic, anyway . . ." he mumbled. "Release him and get back to your duties," he commanded the soldiers, before heading back in the direction of his estate. Robin was released, and he tried not to look too much in a hurry as he left the market square. Once he was at the rendezvous point—which was just on the edge of the town at the tree line—he threw off his robe and disguise._

 _Little John appeared through the brush. "What happened?" he asked. "Did you get the purse?"_

 _Before Robin could reply, Will's voice sounded above them. He was perched comfortably atop a tree branch, swinging the coin purse from one finger. "You mean this?" he dropped it, Robin catching it before it hit the ground. "You're welcome for that." Will dropped down from the branch and grinned rather smugly at Robin. "Fancy meeting you here, mate. I thought you were a bartender." Will embraced him in greeting._

 _Robin chuckled lightly. "Well . . . I'm afraid I wasn't quite made for it. Once a thief always a thief. How are you? What are you doing here?"_

 _Will shrugged, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "Doing what I always do . . . looking for a bit of trouble to fall into. Seems I saved you this time around though. You should keep the nose. Suits you better." They chuckled and Robin threw his arm around Will's shoulders, guiding him into the forest where the rest of his Merry Men awaited._

 _An idea was forming. Robin turned to Will as they walked and asked, "how would you like to put those trouble-making skills to a higher use?"_

* * *

"I don't understand," Robin said, his brow furrowed. "How could anyone know this? With this much detail?"

"Because they wrote it," Regina explained to him. "He's called the Author, obviously enough. He's written all of our stories . . . and apparently . . . decided a long time ago that he was going to make me a villain." Regina placed her hand on the book. "I'm . . . trying to find him. To ask him to rewrite my story." She looked almost embarrassed to admit this.

Robin gave her a small smile. "How can I help?" he asked her. After all, if her story was going to be rewritten, then so was his to a point. A happy ending for the both of them.

"You can't," she said. "No one knows who he is or even where he is. I've been pouring over it, trying to find clues, but . . ." Regina shook her head, then lifted her chin. "Besides, we can't . . . do this. Again." Robin sighed, setting the book down. "We need to maintain distance. For real this time."

"I know," Robin said quietly. But he wasn't quite prepared to let the world outside invade their little heaven just yet. "But," he began, and she gave him a wary look, "if we stay in here," he hinted, and by the growing smile on her lips, she knew exactly where he was taking this, "then it's really just still the first time." Robin pinned her up against the wall. "Right?" He kissed her smiling mouth, their tongues slowly tangling. Heat suffused them, and that urgency to have her and be connected to her was becoming overwhelming.

Lifting her up, her hair dangling around his face, he carried her back to the makeshift bed they had made the night prior. With a low chuckle, he dropped them down on it and immediately deepened their kiss. There was little shyness or hesitance now. Hands were pulling at clothes, removing them layer-by-layer until she was spread underneath him devoid of any cover. His mouth was at her neck, finding those spots that had made her coo earlier, and he exploited them.

"Robin!" she gasped, arching underneath him, her body giving a sharp jerk of need. "Mmm," she breathed, hands moving to grip his back and the back of his head. There was little need for warm-up, he found. She was warm and wet and ready for him almost immediately. It seemed he was not the only one who had awoken with a longing for . . . more. Deftly, he spread the sensitive lips of her pussy and placed himself at her entrance.

With a gentle thrust, he was filling her, and they cried out in unison at the penetration—the return of physical connection. Robin still couldn't get over how she _felt._ Even if they were married, this had to be sinful. It shouldn't feel _this good._ "Regina," he breathed, his hips moving slowly at first, but the sharp pierce of her nails against his shoulder was enough to tell him that she was not interested in slow. Chuckling, he braced himself against their bed and looked down at her, his hips becoming a forcible piston instead.

The cries from her lips—growing higher in pitch, which was quite rare for the sultry-toned Queen—were enough to tell him that this was much better for her. Robin found himself moaning sharply with every thrust, her tight glove swallowing him deep. It was a dizzying combination of needing more and being entirely satisfied with each thrust—a chase and a resolution. Regina's nails ran down to his lower back, then boldly cupped his arse, digging in just enough to insist upon more. Robin growled low, looking at her. There was a dangerous gleam in her eye. Her message was clear—he was not to stop.

Desperately, he kissed her, their tongues and lips moving without reason or rhythm. They were bucking and heaving together frantically, the pleasure increasing to a frantic degree. Robin groaned between the kisses, feeling her bite his lower lip and hold on as he started to hammer into her. He hit somewhere right, for she released his lip to let out a sharp cry, her hips suddenly riding against him. There was an increased pulsing around him and lubrication. His lovely Queen was cumming. Robin fucked her through it, making her shake and tremble.

Each hard pulse had him steering towards his edge as well. "Regina," he panted harshly. "Oh fuck . . . love . . . I . . ."

"Go on, Robin. I need it," she whispered, moving her hands to hold his face. Robin's thrusts became erratic, and as his body tightened, the pleasure burned and became so intense, he almost backed out completely. But he raced over, groaning loudly as he released his seed inside of her, doubling the amount of wetness. His body was tense for a few more moments, and he was unaware of Regina smiling softly and petting through his hair during it.

When his orgasm released him, he was breathing heavily and feeling as though he had just ran for miles. Refocusing, he looked down at her and found her looking quite flushed and . . . smug. "What?" he chuckled, covering her neck and face in tender kisses.

"Oh, nothing. Just . . . your 'O' face is quite adorable," she laughed lightly, running her fingers through the wispy strands of his hair. Robin snorted, giving her neck a playful nip. She gasped and tensed, which made her pussy squeeze him while he was still rather inside of her. Robin moaned in response and gave her a thrust in rebuttal. This, in turn, made her moan, and she was giving him a warning look. Robin grinned innocently, and he felt her preparing to top him when . . . her phone rang.

"Are you kidding me?" Regina growled, exasperated. She reached blindly for her phone. "Oh, of course. It's Snow." Robin chuckled as she answered it, his head lowering to kiss over her breasts. Regina gave him a warning look, but Robin just responded with a cheeky wink and lightly licked at her nipple. She bit her lip, shifting underneath him as she gave a breathy, "hello?" His lips suckled the hard nipple, giving it a hard suck that made her eyes roll and body arch, but then she snapped to. "What?" she asked sharply. Robin stopped immediately, sensing her tone. Something had happened. "Is he okay? Did she hurt him?"

Henry. Something had happened to Henry. Robin pulled out of her carefully and sat between her legs, looking at her in concern. "Of course. I'll be right there." Regina hung up and immediately got off of their bed, grabbing her clothes. "Emma is losing her mind," she explained. "For whatever reason, she can't seem to control her power . . . and she just hurt Henry. He's at the Charmings' now. I need to see him."

Robin offered her her shoes, strategically sliding the storybook under the blanket with him in the process. "Of course. I understand," he told her softly. "Is he alright?"

"They said so, but it's Snow and David. And he's _my_ son," Regina replied. Robin smiled lightly. The Mama Bear was being unleashed. He knew the sentiment well. Every scrape and bruise that Roland collected had been the near end of the world. When a child was all one had . . . their well-being was paramount. He stood, rather unabashedly in his nakedness, and helped her put on her coat.

"Don't be too angry with Emma. I'm sure she didn't mean it," he said lightly.

"We'll see about that." Regina picked up a potion from the wall. "They need a locator potion just to find her," she tucked it away in her pocket, then hesitated when she looked at him. "You're not exactly making this easy either."

Robin chuckled and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Go. Something tells me this won't be the last time we see each other." Despite their good intentions to remain apart and play the part of good, upstanding citizens. She smiled at him, then stepped back and Purple-Smoked herself out of the vault. Robin stared at the spot she had disappeared from and gave a heavy sigh. All bliss had to come to an end . . . otherwise it wouldn't be bliss.

* * *

 _Another look through his telescope found the guards still in their positions just below the lord's bedchambers. Robin sighed and put the telescope down. "Not yet. How much longer?"_

 _Will, laying on his stomach beside Robin, checked the sky. "They always switch at midnight. Should be any minute now. Have patience, you're a thief," he heckled Robin._

" _I just hope the treasure is as plentiful as you say," Robin told him. "I could be spending the evening with Marian."_

 _Will grinned over at him. "How you got a woman like that is beyond me, Robin. She's way out of your rank."_

" _Believe me, I know," Robin replied, looking through his telescope again. "Focus in. If you want to be a Merry Men, you need to learn to be aware of your surroundings at all times."_

 _Sighing, Will pulled out his telescope as well and looked around. "I gave you a good lead on some treasure, and I'm obviously pretty deft with my hands. That's not enough?" he asked._

" _You've passed the pickpocket test, certainly," Robin replied. "But your final test will be to plan and execute a heist of your own. If it's successful, you're in. If not . . . you're either dead or in jail," he said simply._

" _Sounds reasonable," Will muttered deadpanned. "Oh, look! They're moving! We've got three minutes until the new guard takes their place." The two men pushed themselves up off of the ground and rushed across the lush lawn to the castle. Robin was already nocking an arrow that was tied to a rope and loosening it by the time they reached the stone exterior. The arrow landed just above the window. He tugged it to make sure it was embedded well enough, and then he started to climb up the rope. Below him, he could hear Will whispering, "hurry up. I can hear them coming around!"_

 _Robin reached the window and peered inside. It was dark within. Either the lord was asleep or the room was empty. As quickly as he could, Robin wedged a jimmy underneath the window and pulled until the windows opened. Quickly, he climbed inside and heard Will grunting as he began his ascent. Robin checked the bed first thing. Empty. The lord must have been either sleeping elsewhere or visiting a friend. Hearing Will scramble in behind him, Robin turned and watched him pulling up the rope. "They're in place now," Will told him. "We'll have to get creative for the exit."_

" _I've a few ideas in mind," Robin said, eyeing the closet. "First, however, where's this chest?" They searched the room thoroughly, covering every nook and cranny . . . and found nothing. "You're sure it's here?" Robin asked Will. "And not in another part of the castle?"_

" _No, no. It's here," Will frowned. "I've been in this town longer than you, Robin. I've had my eye on this lord for some time. I know it's here. Just . . ." And he paused, turning to the bed—the one place they hadn't searched. "You don't think?"_

" _What sort of an idiot hides a massive jewel under his mattress?" Robin moved forward, and grabbed the pillow, lifting it up. "Oh," and there it was. A small little chest concealed underneath the pillow. "Excuse me, he's_ this _sort of an idiot." He picked up the chest—it fit snugly in his palm—and opened it. Within the chest rested a jewel the size of his palm—blue as the sea and glimmering even without light. "Blimey," he murmured. It was a huge gem . . . this had to be worth two villages' worth of food alone._

 _Will grinned when he saw it. "Told you it was worth snatching. Now, how do we smuggle it out of here?"_

 _Robin stored the gem in the pouch at his hip. "Right through the front door." He led Will over to the closet. "I couldn't help but notice that I was about the same height as our good friend." He grabbed one of the lord's doublets and hats, then used one of the lord's handkerchiefs to cover some of his face. "Here, you wear this," he gave Will another outfit. Once they were dressed, they left the bedroom and walked right down to the front gate._

 _They were unhindered until they past the line of guards at the gate. "Halt!" they shouted, gripping the hilts of their swords, but then the Captain of the Guard hesitated. "My lord?"_

 _Robin cleared his throat. "Yes! It is I, your lord. Why do you gawk at me so? Avert your eyes, you're unworthy to look upon one as exalted as I!" The Captain quickly looked down. Apparently, this wasn't an uncommon demand._

" _Forgive me, my lord. I was told you were in the South visiting Lord Errold," the Captain said._

" _You were told WRONG! Does it look like I'm in the South? Though, I am headed there now. Come along," Robin said to Will, moving past the line of guards seemingly towards the stables and his carriage. "Continue your good work, Captain. I don't want to return to find my castle empty of its fine treasures."_

" _Aye, my lord!" the Captain bowed, and their watch resumed. Robin kept up the charade until they were out of eyesight._

" _Bloody hell, Robin," Will said, removing the additional layer of clothes. "You should have been an actor. I think you missed your calling."_

 _Robin chuckled, shedding the lord's clothes as well. "Disguising oneself is always a viable option in getting out of sticky situations. It may be a trade you pick up yourself." They left the castle behind, heading for the Merry Men camp. "You know, if you can successfully lead the next heist," he added with a nudge._

" _Oh, I've got a few ideas of me own," Will said. "Perhaps nothing quite so dramatic . . . but equally daring." Robin didn't miss the confident grin. "You just say when."_

" _Very well." Robin looked him over. "You have three days." That made the confident grin falter on Will's lips._

" _Bollocks."_

* * *

There he was. Just the man he needed for the job. After all, he had been the one to give Robin the final push he needed to fall into Regina's arms. Seemed only right he be the one to help him secure that place. Dropping his pack onto the booth seat opposite of Will, Robin plopped down soon after and removed the coffee that Will had been pouring a considerate amount of alcohol inside of from in front of him. "Oi, that's my lunch and dinner," Will complained.

"I need you sober," Robin explained simply. "I spent the night with Regina." Will looked surprised at that. "And while I was there, I . . . rather stole this," he pulled the storybook out of his pack and placed it on the table. "I need to find the author of this," he told Will, "and I want you to help me."

"Right," Will said after a moment, sitting up. "First of all, not exactly the woman I had in mind when I told you all of that stuff yesterday, but alright. Following your heart, can't fault you for that. Well, I mean, it might be your heart. Or it might be your co—"

"Pleasant," Robin interrupted him. "I need your help, Will. You've been here longer than I have. Surely, you know something where I might find the author."

Will sighed and looked over the book. "Look, things around here . . . before the curse was broken, there wasn't anything magic, right? When the curse broke, the very first thing that was touched by magic . . . was that place," Will nodded out the window where the clock tower was located. "And below that clock tower . . . is a library. We might find something there."

Robin thought it was as good a lead as any. After Will chugged down his liquid meal, they made their way over to the library. "Ah, here we go," Will knelt down before the door, pulling out his set of lockpicks. "It's been awhile, but I think you'll find that ole Will still has the right touch." Robin nodded, looking out for passersby . . . and then noticed the sign. Ah. A PUBLIC library. He let Will struggle a bit more before taking pity on him and simply pushing open the door.

"Open until Ten PM," Robin read the sign aloud to Will's confused expression.

"Ah. Well, very generous," Will blinked.

"Indeed." Robin led the way inside. It was empty, allowing them full rein to dig their hands in. Not that Robin had any clue what exactly they were looking for. Somehow, he doubted there would be a giant sign pointing him to a section of authors with the power of a God. Setting his pack down on the table, he started at one of the book aisles and began making his painstakingly-slow and tedious way through every title. Hours passed, and still they searched.

Will's patience broke first. "She's really something alright. If Evil Queens are your type, which I get," he quickly added. "So. Shagged her, hm?"

"That is not relevant," Robin replied, pulling a few books off of the shelves in the hope that there might be something more . . . ancient-looking or something . . . behind them. Nothing.

"Hey, no judgements here, mate. I was the one who told you to follow your heart," Will assured him.

A heavy sigh left his lips. "I just want her to be happy. Even if she thinks that's impossible." Or even if it meant without him. Robin wasn't quite so daft to think that a happy ending meant marriage and children and growing old together. If he was a part of it, grand, but it didn't matter. As long as she was truly happy.

"You always were the romantic, Robin," Will said, smiling lightly. "But really . . . this world is nothing but pain. If you two being together drowns some of that out, then I think it's the real deal, and I wish you well."

"Hm," Robin said non-committedly. "There won't be any together at all if we can't find the Author. This library doesn't exactly seem to hold any special sort of information. Especially when it houses books like," he pulled out at random and read the title, " _'The Cat in the Hat.'_ Why would a cat want a hat?"

"I've seen stranger," Will informed him.

Robin gave an irritable sigh and moved back to the table. His eyes were tired from reading the tiny font imprinted on the spine of books. He needed some coffee before they continued their venture. Grabbing the book, he was about to put it back into his pack when he noticed . . . a piece of paper. Pausing, he set the book down and took the paper instead, unfolding it. That . . . wasn't there before, and he was rather certain he hadn't torn any pages out of the book. Carefully, he unfolded it and scanned the page's contents.

It was a picture of himself and Regina . . . in the tavern. "Incredible," he breathed, reading the words beside the picture. It was an account of Regina walking into the tavern and approaching him. Robin invited her for a drink and they talked from nightfall to morning light. "'. . . and when the light touched her face, Robin knew in his heart that he wanted to the sun greet her every morning with a kiss nearly as warm as his own,'" he read aloud.

"What's that now?" Will asked, turning to him.

Robin looked up. "I need to reach Regina."

Will took out his phone. "Well, I have this, but I don't have her number. Give me a few." He dialed something on the phone and spoke into it. "Yeah, hello, Belle. Do you have Regina's number, by chance? Robin needs to speak to her, and I make it a point to keep elected officials off of my speed dial." He chuckled at something Belle said, then nodded. "Thank-you, luv. I'll talk to you later, alright?" He hung up and pressed in the new number. "Lovely lady that Belle."

"Quite. A gentle soul . . . one currently attached to Rumplestiltskin, unless I'm mistaken," Robin eyed him curiously. Will shrugged and walked over, handing the phone over to Robin.

"We'll see. Talk in the bottom. Listen at the top," he instructed Robin. Odd device for communication. How did it work?

Hearing Regina's voice, Robin pressed his ear to the phone. "REGINA? REGINA, IT'S ROBIN. CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Steady, mate. She can hear you fine. Or she could. Not so sure about now. Talk normally," Will told him with a note of exasperation.

"Oh. Sorry. Listen. I've just found something that you have to see right now. Come to the library. It's fantastic," Robin insisted.

There was a pause, and Robin was about to try shouting again, when he heard her say, "I'll be right there."

"Brilliant," Robin grinned. "Oh, I'm smiling. Can you see that? Does this work for the face, too?" he asked, looking at Will, who shook his head, rubbing his temples. Regina was laughing on the other end. "Anyway. I'll see you soon?"

"Quite," Regina replied. "Talk to you then."

She hung up, and Robin looked at the phone. "Did I do it? How do you stop talking?"

Will checked the phone. "She hung up. Remind to teach you how to live in the modern age later. Bloody embarrassing," he shook his head. "So, she's coming yeah? Well, I'll just take my leave then and let you lovebirds canoodle in the privacy of the library on your own."

"Right," Robin looked over the page again, astounded. "Thanks, mate. I'll be in touch."

"Oh, I'm sure you will."

* * *

 _This was ridiculous. He ought to call the whole thing off right now. There was no way this was going to work, and his men were just going to end up dead because of it. "You're insane, Will," he told the young man who had rapidly become his friend during the few months that Will had been traveling with them._

" _That's the fourth time you've said that," Will reminded him. "Have a little faith. I know what I'm doing." He and Robin were perched on a tree branch that grew over a road. Alan-a-Dale was also perched beside Robin. Little John and Friar Tuck—and the others—were on the ground, hacking away at two large trees that stood on the edges of the road. "How are you doing down there, gents?" Will called down to them._

" _Nearly ready!" Little John called up._

 _The sound of horses approached, and Will added, "best hurry! They're nearly here!" Robin fretted, his thumb stroking over the hilt of his dagger at his side. It was the only weapon he had carried with him up here, since his job would make carrying a bow and quiver rather difficult. If things turned south, it'd be a tough fight._

" _Will . . ." Robin warned, watching the carriage rapidly approaching. They were unnoticed, high in the trees as they were, but it was his men on the ground that Robin was worried about._

" _Don't worry, they've got it," Will insisted. The carriage just approached them, and the two trees fell right in front of the horses, making them stop abruptly. The carriage driver grunted, nearly thrown from his seat._

" _What the-?" he driver climbed down from his seat to inspect the fallen trees. Little John and the others pressed themselves into the foliage, hidden from sight. The door to the carriage opened, a nobleman dressed in rich silk climbing out of it._

" _What's the cause for delay? Oh my! What happened here?" the nobleman asked as he saw the trees._

" _Now," Will whispered to Robin. Robin, in turn, gave Alan a thumbs up. Alan passed over a rope which was tied to the tree trunk. Robin quickly tied Will's feet, and then slowly lowered him down over the carriage. Gritting his teeth, Robin lowered him knot by knot, his own feet braced on the branch. Alan held the rope as well, in the event that Robin lost his grip. Will was steadily lowered until he hovered just over the carriage top._

 _Using his dagger, he cut a hole into the top of the carriage, and then signaled to Robin. He let him down a bit more until Will was half-way in the carriage. Gritting his teeth, Robin felt his strength starting to wan. Will needed to hurry up, and not just because the nobleman was going to head back to his comfy seat at any moment. Feeling a tug on the rope, Robin grunted over to Alan, "he's got it. Pull." The two of them pulled the rope back up, lifting Will out of the carriage and back onto the branch just as the nobleman turned and headed back for his carriage._

 _Will grinned and held the reasonably sized chest in his hands. "Not bad, right?" he panted. "Codger won't know what hit him until he decides to look for his money . . . or notices a slight draft." Chuckling, he watched as the carriage driver carefully maneuvered the carriage around the fallen trees, their targets moving out of sight. "So, what do you think?" Will opened the chest, revealing a trove of golden coins and pearl necklaces, "am I in?"_

 _Later that evening, at the camp, Robin poured each man a tankard of ale as they gathered around a fire. "Brothers, gather around. Will Scarlet, give me your hand," he said, approaching him. Will gave him a dubious look, but Robin simply pulled out his dagger and sliced his palm, squeezing a few drops of blood over the fire. "You're one of us now," he told Will, his tone solemn. "For life."_

 _Will lifted his chin, "a thief for life."_

" _No," Robin corrected him. "That's what they call us, but that's not what we are. We help those in need. A thief only steals for himself. We have a cause that's bigger than any one of our own needs. Our cause is humanity. When you steal for personal gain, the first thing you lose is yourself. We've chosen the harder path," he said, looking around at his men. "The difficult path." He turned back to Will, squeezing his hand one more time, "but the right one." He patted his back and released his hand. "Welcome to the Merry Men."_

 _There were cheers as the other Merry Men rose and moved forward to welcome Will officially into their ranks. Robin stepped back, smiling. These were heroes right here. They could go off and use their skills to make themselves richer . . . but here they were . . . sleeping on the ground, picking the dirt from under their fingernails and fighting over the warmest spot near the fire . . . because they believed in the cause. He cherished every one of them. A man was nothing without his friends._

* * *

While he waited for Regina, Robin sat at the table, pouring over the book. He checked to see if the page had fallen out of the book, but the page—twenty-three—was accounted for. It was as if the page belonged to another book . . . or that it had been re-written and what was now a part of the book was the revised version. It just showed that there wasn't anyone dictating Regina's exact movements. She had the ability of choice. She may have chosen wrong in the past, but she could choose the correct path now and in the future. Her destiny was in her hands.

Hearing the door close, Robin looked up to see Regina walking in. "I got here as fast as I could. What's going on?"

Robin stood up. "I'll tell you in a moment. First, do you remember this?" he asked, gesturing to the book.

"Uh . . . the book you apparently stole from me? Yes, I remember it quite well," she questioned.

Robin couldn't help but smile, "you knew I was a thief when you met me." That made her smile. God, he loved her smiles. "Tonight, I came here to try and find a clue towards finding the Author . . . towards your happy ending. It's been bleak. There's really nothing here except a cat who apparently has a penchant for hats. But," he held up a finger, "then I found something." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the page, handing it to her.

Regina took it and looked it over, her brow furrowing. "Is this . . . us?"

"Yes!" Robin exclaimed. "From inside the pub," he tapped the page.

"I . . . don't understand. Is this from the book?" Regina asked, walking to his side and examining the book.

Robin shook his head. "Page Twenty-Three is already in the book, see?" he turned to it, showing her. "And it's you leaving me. This goes in the same place," he said, taking the page and setting it over the other one. "This is the meeting we never had. And, apparently, it went quite well. Look, we're about to kiss. Tongue and all," he gave her a cheeky grin.

She gave him an exasperated sigh, nudging him in the side. "What does it mean though?" she asked.

Robin took her hands in his. "It means that your fate could have gone many different ways. It means you're not doomed to suffer. There's a bright future for you around every turn, even if you miss one. The choice is up to you, Regina," he squeezed her hands. "No one controls your destiny but you."

She appeared a little dubious about that. "Where did it come from?" she asked him. "Was there another book?"

"It just appeared in my satchel," he explained. "Look, you can take it however you want, but to me, it's showing you possibility. Hope. That's not something that would ever happen to a villain, is it?" he asked, and she shook her head, eyes forming tears. Robin brushed his thumbs over her hands. "What is it?" he asked her softly.

"I owe someone a quarter," she said a little hoarsely, the emotion thick in her voice. Robin didn't quite understand what she meant by that, but it was clear that she was happy . . . and that made him soar. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her lovingly, a hand moving to rest at her lower back. No, it wasn't perfect . . . but they were perfect together, and all Robin could taste in her kiss . . . was hope.

Regina pulled away and added, "by the way, I really need to teach you how to use a phone."


	6. Desperation

**My loyal readers, I apologize for the long wait in an update. I'm afraid school kept me away for a period of time and continues to do so, but I am determined to bring you this story despite its delight in delaying me. Never fear, I am not one to abandon a story, and this story-as with all the fics I write-has been entirely outlined. That means that it has been planned completely. All I require is the time to see the outline turned into chapters. I thank-you all for your patience and hope you enjoy the following chapter enough to both satiate and whet your appetite for more!**

* * *

There was much wrong in Robin's life, but recently—with the exception of what happened to Marian—things seemed to be looking up. At least in regards to his relationship with Regina. They talked briefly since their last lip-lock in the library, but the affection remained . . . the closeness he felt with her. They'd kept from sleeping together again, but they were not as successful in turning their hearts away from each other. Selfish though it was—and he knew how much it was—he woke that morning feeling . . . happy. The day seemed to match his happiness. The sun rose bright and cheery, breaking through most of the chill that clung to the morning hours.

As Robin crawled out of his tent to greet this bright morning, he breathed in and smiled in contentment. It almost seemed as though the very air had a freshness about it—as if the forest surrounding his little Merry Men camp was experiencing the same form of rebirth that he was. Or, perhaps, he was just seeing everything through the rosy-tinted eyes of a silly man in love.

Roland, who was still a little sleepy-eyed, crawled out behind him, yawning and rubbing his left eye. Dressed in his pajamas—something called a 'onesie' that resembled a fox, complete with tail and pointy-eared hood—he stumbled out after his father and licked his lips, indicating his thirst. Robin grabbed hold of a water bottle and poured it into a glass for his son. "Drink it slow, Roland," he told him lightly, and then pulled him back into the tent, so he could dress him.

Putting on a fresh pair of trousers and a shirt himself, Robin left the tent once more and walked over to the main campfire where Little John—who was on breakfast duty—was flipping freshly fried eggs onto plates to be served. "Good morning," John greeted him, handing him a plate. "Alan mentioned an odd disturbance during his watch," he reported.

Robin lifted an eyebrow, taking another plate for Roland. The little boy came running up, all energy now that he'd gotten over his morning slump. "Eat slowly," Robin reminded him, handing him the plate and a fork. Roland nodded and ran off for a stump, sitting on it and awkwardly cutting into his egg with the fork a tad too large for his small hand. Robin looked back at John, his brow furrowed curiously. "Something causing concern?" he inquired.

Little John shrugged. "He said something about a dark cloud on the horizon. We may be in store for a bit of violent weather. I was thinking of popping over at Granny's and seeing what those Weather Wizards were saying about it."

Robin nodded. "If it's a nasty one, we may find ourselves relocating into proper shelters for the evening. Granny's has some rooms for rent." And he certainly didn't mind rooming in Regina's to avoid the storm . . . provided she was willing, of course. "Head over now. I'll take over breakfast. Check in with me as soon as you know the report." Little John nodded, stealing an extra slice of bacon with a mischievous grin and popping it into his mouth before heading out of camp.

A few hours later, Robin had yet to hear from him. But since the sun continued to shine down through the trees, his worries were easy. Only his son was his focus. "Now, what do we call this?" Robin asked, holding up a fletching he had made a few days ago.

"A feather!" Roland exclaimed, his fingers running over the soft edge.

"Indeed," Robin nodded. "And we use these to stabilize . . . what was this?" he asked, picking up one of his arrows.

"An arrow!" Roland recited proudly, scooching himself closer on Robin's lap, so he could take the long shaft of wood into his own hands.

"That's my clever boy," Robin hummed, stroking his hand through his soft curls. "But remember, you must never play with Papa's arrows. Not until you're older and understand the weight of them."

"But Papa, they're not heavy!" Roland declared, showing him by holding the arrow up over his head.

Robin allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "And that is precisely why you mustn't play with them. Only when they're heavy, are you ready to handle them." Roland looked confused, but he nodded and handed the arrow back over to his father. Robin leaned over and placed it back into his quiver before resting his hands at his son's back, supporting him. "We must use our hearts before our weapons, right?" Roland nodded, nothing but smiles and wide-eyes. Robin felt his heart swell in no small amount of absolute love for his son. The lessons he tried to impart were ones he didn't even necessarily follow . . . but he wanted Roland to be better than himself. It had taken a long journey for Robin to understand what path he should walk, and how he should walk it. He was taking this chance to start Roland on the better path from the very beginning.

"Robin!" he heard a small call, and he looked up to find Will nodding to . . . Regina and Henry. Delighted surprise appeared on his face, and he picked Roland up, standing in the process.

"I need to speak with you," Regina said, and there was such a frightened urgency in her eyes that Robin immediately set Roland down.

"Is everything alright?" Robin asked, walking towards the two. He lightly touched Henry's shoulder in greeting, offering the young man—for 'boy' could hardly be used to describe Henry anymore—a warm smile. Henry returned it before making his way to Roland. Robin heard an excited cry of 'Henry!' from Roland behind him, and he glanced over briefly to see Henry kneel and pull out some comics from his bag, showing Roland. Turning back to Regina, the smile froze on his lips at the utter _apprehension_ he saw in her eyes. "What is it?" he asked her softly, taking her hand in his.

Regina drew in a breath. "The Snow Queen. She's unleashed the spell. By sundown, it will cover all of Storybrooke. You and your men need to separate yourselves. Get rid of all the weapons, or else you'll be slaughtering each other."

Dread filled him immediately. So, they had been too late to find some way to stop the Snow Queen. Taking a step back, he turned towards his encampment and gave a sharp whistle. "Break camp!" he called out to them. The Merry Men looked at each other in confusion but began to pack up and take down their tents. Robin looked back at Regina, squeezing her hand in the process. "What will happen?"

"Well," Regina cleared her throat, "based on what we've seen . . . We'll all turn on each other. We . . . become our worst selves. Emma and Elsa are sure they're going to be immune to it though. They'll be trying to find a way to end the curse. We just . . . need to survive until then."

Robin smiled lightly. "I meant to you."

Regina paused, a momentary look of surprise crossing her face, as if she was actually surprised that someone was concerned for _her._ "I mean . . . I know what I'll become. Which is exactly why I'm going to be locking myself away. If I get out," she shook her head, her gaze lowering in guilt, "I'll do terrible things," she finished in a whisper. Robin took her other hand in his as well, his thumb lightly brushing over hers. She was concerned about returning to her darker ways . . . having that forced onto her. Robin understood. She had come so far to put that woman behind her—to walk a different path. He had to admit, he wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing what the worst version of himself was like . . . After all, he had done rather terrible things once upon a time.

Lightly, he brought her hand to his cheek, and he nuzzled his face into her palm. "She was you. She isn't the woman who stands before me now. Whatever this curse unleashes in you . . . it doesn't make up the whole." Regina's gaze softened, and she seemed to examine him. In fact, her gaze was so direct, he couldn't help but inquire, "what is it?"

"I'm just . . . trying to remember you this way," she admitted quietly.

"What? Alarmed?" Robin chuckled, bringing her palm away from his cheek.

"With love still in your eyes," Regina whispered, and he felt her trembling slightly. Her gaze dropped, as if unable to meet his own at this admission. "I don't think I can bear to see them filled with hate."

He ached at that. Robin drew her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "We're here now. And this is true," he reminded her gently. She closed her eyes, and so he did the same, listening to her breathing. Eventually, his hands released hers in order to wrap around her waist and pull her against him, embracing her tightly. Regina nuzzled herself into his neck, burrowing there, and he lifted a hand to lightly stroke through her hair. He wished he could comfort her . . . tell her nothing was going to happen. But he had seen some of the Evil Queen's work—secondhand mostly—and knew what she was capable of. He just hoped nothing did happen. Not for other's sake, but for her own. It'd only be another dark deed to weigh down her soul.

In unison, they parted, but only enough to share a kiss. Robin felt the bliss her kisses brought tickle up from his toes until it tingled through his entire body. Lightly, he cupped her head and kept them together for as long as fate would allow. Then, with a reluctant breath, they stepped back. "Be careful," she whispered to him, their hands slowly sliding against each other's until only their fingertips touched.

"You as well," he replied, longing to protect her filling him. They separated entirely, and he had to fight not to go after her. When darkness fell, he knew she wouldn't need protecting. Robin turned to Roland, who was looking at the hurried packing with slight nervousness. Robin moved to him, picking him up and distracting him from the anxious aura clinging to the camp. "Never you worry, little lion. Papa's here to keep you safe."

* * *

 _Exhaustion clung to his very bones. His boots barely held together, one of the soles flopping with every step he took. Robin of Locksley's gaze was lowered to the ground, barely managing enough strength to lift it high enough to watch the road. He could feel the weight of exhaustion underneath his eyes. The past few weeks he had simply fallen on the side of the road when he could walk no further and sleep there until his body recovered enough for further walking yet._

 _There was no great ceremony to greet a soldier home from the Crusades. True, some might brand him a deserter. But his unit believed he was dead. And that war? What he had seen? What he had been subjected to? The Robin of Locksley that had first sailed to the Holy Land to fight alongside Richard the Lionhearted had, indeed, died. This new one was a stranger, even yet to him._

 _His stomach had long ago stopped giving him pain. It seemed it had finally received the message that there was no food to eat. Oh, there was the occasional herb or vegetable he found growing on the side of the road. He would eat it raw, his step never slowing on the road. He had been particularly lucky the day it had rained. Water had been provided for him for days. If not from the clouds themselves, then from the puddles that remained in the road a few days after._

 _A single thought kept propelling him forward—even when his legs shook and threatened to collapse underneath him—why hadn't his family been there to greet him? His departure from Jerusalem had been quick, true, but he had managed to release a pigeon before he was smuggled onto a ship bound for England. They should have been there. The one thing he had wanted to see more than anything . . . was his mother's smile._

 _An answer was just over the next hill. Or so he kept repeating to himself as he made his way through England to the territory owned by his family. Close to Nottingham—and indeed, his family ruled over the small village—his family's castle was a simple enough estate. They protected the village of Nottingham and provided for the farmers which worked their lands. It was a simple holding, really nothing of note when it came to the nobility, but Nottingham produced a great deal of wealth due to the rich farmland. Simple though the castle was, the Locksleys sat upon a figurative gold mine. His father, harsh and hard though he was, had kept the family under a simple lifestyle. Nothing of extravagance. God, he even missed that old codger._

 _When he finally found the will to lift his chin, he saw that the next hill . . . was indeed the next hill in truth. He remembered this slope—had rode it often as a boy. Renewed energy filled his gaunt and dirty frame, and he hurried his step down the muddy road. The forest receded and open farmland accepted him into its familiar expanse. Robin's heart filled with quiet joy at being back home. Each patterned pasture or field held a fond memory to him. There he had played with the farmer's boys, running in and out of the crops much to the annoyance of the farmer. There he had shared his first kiss with a girl from Nottingham—she had fallen to consumption two years later._

 _At last, his heart full of joy and hope, he made it to the top of the rise . . . only to feel everything crash down. Where once his family's castle had stood humbly—but proudly—now only smoked stone and a broken tower remained. Weariness forgotten, Robin lurched forward and ran down the remainder of the path to his home. It seemed that the castle had fallen to trebuchet and catapult. Though whoever had ordered the attack did not seem content until the castle had been practically demolished entirely._

 _The large doors that had led to the entrance hall rested on the ground, weeds already growing over them. He stepped over the door and walked through the crumbling entrance. Nothing remained of his family's possessions. The furniture was either smashed or stolen. The ancient tapestries of the Locksley family emblem were either burned or missing. Armor that had belonged to their ancestors were missing along with swords. But it was not the possessions that worried Robin . . . where was his family!?_

" _Mother!?" he called. "Father!?" His voice echoed against the smoking stones, returning to him desperate and hoarse. There was no need to climb up to the rooms that had belonged to them. The staircase had been destroyed, and much of the upper landing had fallen under the flames. Robin stumbled through the wreckage, occasionally tripping on a broken piece of railing or floor or even a headboard._

 _Confusion clouded his mind, dampening the panic only slightly. What had happened to them? Had England been invaded by another force whilst the majority of the army lay siege to the Turks? A thudding noise from the back of the castle kept interrupting his racing thoughts. Robin walked over to the remaining tower that was essentially the only full-structure left of the castle. A few holes had removed chunks of it, but it stood. Grabbing onto the clasp to open the door, he pulled, but the door remained firmly shut._

 _Pulling, Robin grit his teeth together and yanked harder, but the door remained shut. The tower gave an ominous crumbling sound, as if it was leaving against the door. Robin stepped back immediately, not wanting to cause the tower to fall—especially on top of him. Stepping away, he stared up at the tower. That had led to his mother's 'hovel' as she called it. She did most of her sewing and reading there. Robin had often played there as a child, and eventually made it up to the top of the tower on the battlements when he was older, pretending to be a knight against a siege of enemies._

 _Where had he been then? When the actual enemies had come to . . . to do what? What had happened? Where were his parents? The thudding continued, and the noise only fueled his irritation and panic. Robin marched out the back gate—which was essentially a gape of a hole—and searched for the source of the incessant noise. Stumbling over a few stones, he walked out from behind the remains of another tower that had been toppled to the ground . . . and felt his heart drop._

 _Two bodies swayed in the wind, ropes around their necks, the breeze causing their feet to hit back against the wooden beam from which they were hanging. Ravens and crows had long since feasted upon them, but he would know them anywhere . . . "M-Mama," he managed to choke, tears blinding his eyes and obscuring them from view. Raw pain ached in his throat and chest. How could this be? It couldn't be. Surely, this was a nightmare. He had just fallen asleep on the side of the road again._

 _Tears ran down his face, making clean tracks on his skin in their march. Noises hardly human escaped his lips—the sound of grief. Robin made his way—almost blind—to the platform and found the knot. Carefully, he undid it and lowered their bodies to the ground. Stumbling down with them, he took them both in his arms and released a few sharp sobs, rocking back and forth. Their flesh was sticky and baked under the sun. Through his tears, he saw that his father's skull was showing from a hole pecked clean by some bird. His mother . . . oh, his mother . . . her lips had been eaten, a permanent smile to greet her son with now in place._

 _The smell was horrid, but Robin only clung to them harder, the grief slowly becoming rage as his sobs turned to wails of anger. Minutes passed, and as he grew silent, exhaustion returned to him in full. But there was work to be done. Tenderly, he set them down and dug them both graves. Robin dropped a few stones down into the dirt to act as a slab, then lowered their bodies into it together. His parents weren't perfect . . . but they had loved one another._

 _Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he looked down at their skeletal frames—flesh yet clinging to them. "I'll make it right," he vowed to them. Gently, he laid stones over them as well, and then buried them. For awhile, he sat beside the fresh grave, trying to collect his thoughts. Who had attacked his family? Who had hung them? For what purpose? There was only one place he'd find answers—his gaze lifted, and he centered it on the smoke lazily rising above the treetops—Nottingham._

* * *

The streets of Storybrooke were vacant. Robin had long since learned that when that happened, something terrible was brewing. The lights were out in Granny's, and he felt a chill at its dark windows. The simple diner had always been a symbol of community and extended family and love . . . to see it locked up was . . . ominous. His gaze was drawn skyward as he made his trek to the Mayor's Office—where he expected to find Regina. The sky was darkening, made all the darker by the cloud that traveled over Storybrooke.

Robin could see flashes of light within, as if lightning struck or shards of glass caught the reflection of a light. It loomed over him, and he felt it like a heavy weight pressing on his shoulders and chest. Dragging his gaze away, he focused back on Town Hall. It was silly, perhaps, to try and find her this close to the striking hour, but . . . he needed to see her. One more time.

A part of him even hoped they might lock themselves together. He trusted her. He didn't think whatever evil that remained inside of her would hurt him. Just as he didn't think whatever evil inside of him would hurt her. But that was a foolish hope, he knew. Regina would place herself in a separate continent altogether if she could. Walking into Town Hall, he took the stairs to the Mayor's Office.

Regina was just exiting when he arrived. She looked surprised—and alarmed—to see him. "Robin," she said, giving her office a nervous look. "What are you doing here?"

"I just needed to see you," he said with an almost embarrassed smile. She smiled for a brief moment, but then the anxious look returned to her eyes.

"Is everything taken care of?" she asked him.

"Indeed. My men have scattered, and Marian and Roland have been placed somewhere even I don't know," he told her. "Honestly, I rather pity the bloke who volunteered to look after my little lion. He can be quite the handful when he wants to be," he smirked lightly. "I'll be chaining myself to a tree in a bit, but . . . where are you going?" he asked her, reaching for her to cheek and lightly stroking along the bone with his thumb.

"My Vault," she admitted. "I'm . . . going to put a spell on it. I shouldn't be able to get out until Emma lets me." Yet still, she looked as though this wouldn't be enough. Was she truly so afraid of what she might do? Robin kissed her forehead, trying to soothe the rampant thoughts that no doubt were running wild in there.

Robin bit his lip, studying her, "do you want me to come with you?" he asked her, a slight hopeful look in his eye. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the wisest thing, but . . . he wanted to be there for her. It seemed Regina, however, was quite alarmed by the idea.

"No-no-no-no," she said quickly, stepping back from him. "You need to stay as far from me as possible. It isn't even safe for us to be around each other now," she said, just as the lights started to flicker. Robin glanced at them, frowning. The weight on his chest seemed to become heavier. "We're minutes away now." Regina was backing away from me, and it broke his heart to see her so frightened . . . like a caged animal. "I need to lock myself away."

Robin's brow furrowed. "To keep people out?"

She smiled then, sadly, at him. "To keep me in."

He stepped towards her again, trying to touch her, to reassure her. "Regina, I'm not afraid of you," he told her, taking hold of her hand with both of his. He refused to believe that they would harm one another. Perhaps that was folly, but it was what he felt.

Her light pushing him back told him she did not seem to think the same. "But you really, really should be," she whispered, and then broke away, hurrying out of the Hall. Robin stared after her, his heart hurting for her. Some day, perhaps, he could make her see what he saw. The lights flickered once more, and he drew in a breath, rushing off. Right. It was time to find himself a tree.

Leaving Town Hall, he glanced skyward once more. The cloud—shimmering purple—now engulfed the entire sky. The wind had picked up as well, making the streetlights shake and buildings groan around him. Robin clutched his jacket tighter to his body and hurried off towards the forest. Locating the handcuffs he had picked up from the Sheriff's office, he clicked one into place, and then sat himself down against a tree. With some difficulty, he handcuffed his other wrist . . . and then waited.

There was a groan above him, as if the very sky had grown weary of holding the weight of that cloud . . . and then it seemed to shatter above him. Twinkling shards rained down, and he ducked his head, expecting to be pierced by the glass. Instead it seemed to dissolve before it reached him. Lifting his head in confusion, he looked up at the sky. He didn't feel any different at all. Blinking in confusion, he looked down at his wrists. Except he really, really needed to get out of these cuffs. With everyone locked away, it was the perfect opportunity to steal that stash of gems he knew the dwarves had been mining during their time here.

Those would fetch quite the pretty price. Robin smirked and looked for a way to pick the locks on the handcuffs. The twigs weren't sturdy enough. Then he recalled . . . he always kept a lockpick in the heel of his boot. Robin twisted his body, grunting in discomfort as he contorted, so he could reach the heel of his boot and lift up on it to remove the pick from the self-made secret compartment. "Hnnggg," he groaned, squeezing his eyes in slight pain. Just as he felt he was about to dislocate his shoulder, he finally pulled the pick out of the heel and went to work on picking the lock.

This was child's play. He'd picked enough locks to be able to do it blindfolded . . . which he supposed he was doing in a form now, since he couldn't exactly see what he was doing. Patience . . . patience . . . patience . . . there was a click, and one of his hands was free. With a sigh of comfort, he was able to turn and pick the other lock even easier. Free, he rubbed his wrists and rotated his shoulders to ease some of the strain he had put on them. Now then. Time to do a little treasure hunting . . .

* * *

 _The village of Nottingham was not the cheery place he remembered. In fact, his bedraggled, dirty appearance fit in rather well among the village folk. Their clothes were in tatters, and they looked just as hungry as himself. What happened to them? They stared right through him whenever they had enough gumption to actually look at him. Otherwise, they averted their gazes almost fearfully, as if he might strike them._

 _Robin made his way to the principal place of justice in the village—the Sheriff's Office. Two large guards stood on either side of the door. Just as he was about to enter, they crossed their swords across the door. "What business do you have with the Sheriff of Nottingham?" one of the guards asked._

 _Clenching his jaw, Robin lifted his chin, and with whatever dignity his upbringing had given him was mustered, he declared, "Robin, Earl of Locksley, orders that the Sheriff has an audience with him."_

 _The guards looked surprised to hear this name. They glanced at each other nervously for a moment, then nodded to Robin and allowed him entry. The office was small. Two cells stood on the opposite side of the room. A lone desk sat to Robin's right, and behind that desk sat the Sheriff of Nottingham. But this was not the old Sheriff that Robin knew growing up. This was a man near to his own age. Confusion furrowed on his brow, and he cleared his throat. The Sheriff, who had been counting a bag of gold, gave an irritated sigh and looked up. "What do you want?" he asked, sneering at the sight of him._

" _I'd like to know what happened to my family," Robin stated coolly, eyeing the pile of gold coins before settling his gaze on the Sheriff's. "Lord and Lady Locksley. The owners of this village and this land. Why did I find them hanging and their castle blown apart?" he asked, his voice tight, words cut crisply._

 _The Sheriff looked surprised, sitting up straighter in his chair. "You must be their son . . . I was told they had one serving in the Crusades . . . that he likely died." He ran a dubious look over him. "I don't see a Lord's son before me now. More of a farmer's boy . . . come to claim what isn't rightfully his."_

 _Robin's lips pressed together. "I assure you, sir," he spoke the word disdainfully, "I served alongside King Richard the Lionhearted. Once his campaign is over, he'll be more than happy to ride down here and authenticate my identity. And restore justice to my fallen family."_

 _The Sheriff smirked wider at that, his feet moving up to rest on his desk. "Careful of those words. You've been out of the country for some time. Things have changed. King Richard doesn't rule here any longer. His brother, Prince John, has resumed rule of England. Speak otherwise, and I'm afraid you'll find yourself following the same fate as your parents . . . and all of the other traitors out there who are unwilling to accept fealty to their new King."_

 _Robin's hands curled into fists. Traitors!? TRAITORS!? "You mean they refused to back the legitimacy of a false King?" he said through grit teeth. "It was for their honor that they were hung?"_

 _The Sheriff seemed to delight in Robin's growing rage and dismay. "Simple boy. The world has changed. Allow me to teach you a lesson. Swear promises where one must, and one might find oneself in a place of power . . . and wealth," he gestured to the gold coins on his desk. "Or play the part of the fool and follow the others to an early grave. Castles can be rebuilt. I'm sure if Prince John heard from his most loyal of Sheriffs that the new Earl of Locksley was keen to defend his throne . . . you would be rewarded richly. Reinstated as Earl, even. We could rule this little village together. Nottingham already gives the Prince . . . excuse me . . . King the most taxes. As such, this has become his favorite village. And I his favorite subject. We can rise high together, you and I." The Sheriff stood then, extending his hand to Robin. "Brother."_

 _He stared at the outstretched hand. Dirt clung under the Sheriff's nails. That hand had ordered the death of his parents. With a deep-rooted hatred he had never thought himself possible of feeling, he glared up at the Sheriff. "Never."_

 _A sigh left the Sheriff's lips. "Then I'm afraid I have to arrest you. Traitor's blood runs in the family, after all. And by the state of your clothes, something tells me your beloved King Richard didn't allow you to leave the war voluntarily . . . and that makes you a deserter. And deserters . . . are punished by execution." His head lifted, and Robin realized the two guards from outside had at some point entered in behind him. "Seize him."_

 _Before the guards could grab his arms, Robin dropped low and took the daggers from their waist. Slicing the back of their legs, they cried out and fell to the floor as blood gushed forward. The Sheriff shouted for help, but Robin was already running out of the building, the bloody daggers in his hands. He ran through the crowd and slipped into the forest, not stopping until his body felt as though it was about to give out. Shaking, he fell to the ground and coughed, trying to get enough oxygen to his lungs. His skin felt cold despite the hard running he had put himself through._

 _Rolling onto his back, he stared up through the canopy of trees to the sky above. His parents had been murdered. They had refused to bend the knee to this Prince John and had paid for it. Disgust filled him . . . and betrayal. He had bled—nearly died—for this country, and it repaid him by killing his parents? By making a mockery of the King he had served? The King he had charged into battle with? Where was the justice in that?_

 _No. There wasn't any. He'd keep his promise to his parents, but he was going to do it his way. Softness only made one weak in this world. Slowly, he pushed himself up, and he stared down at the blood-encrusted daggers. Those men could very well have been dead. He'd cut them deep, and he had seen the way the blood had sprayed. A part of him wanted to feel guilty, but he clamped down on it. He didn't owe them anything. He didn't owe anyone anything. If he wanted vengeance, he had to take it._

 _And he'd take everything else while he was at it, too._

* * *

Storybrooke was alive! Robin had found himself a nice little perch on top of Granny's. With his bow and quiver equipped, he had found a bit of fun in firing down on the cars that lined the streets. Each one had a flat tire or two. Some were missing windows. One was even leaking gas onto the street. Now and then, when two people started fighting in the street—mainly dwarves—he fired an arrow at their feet to scare them. That had been quite amusing.

But, Robin was growing tired of his game, so he climbed down and joined the frenzy on the streets. People were fighting everywhere. Sometimes they crashed through windows during their brawls, but that didn't stop their fighting. If anything, it intensified it. Robin managed to keep to the shadows for the most part, though he was approached by Archie . . . who he simply punched in the nose and kept on walking. That's what he deserved for trying to bill Robin for that sorry excuse of a therapy session.

His prowling bore fruit. One of the softer dwarves—Happy—came to his attention. With a simple arrow to the knee, Robin stopped him in his tracks. "OW! WHY!?" Happy shouted, falling to the ground and clutching his leg. Robin hurried forward to the middle of the street and set his foot on Happy's chest, keeping him pressed firmly to the ground. "Locksley," Happy grunted, glaring up at him, his eyes filled with pain. "What do you want?"

"One simple thing really," Robin said, his hand reaching down to lightly play with the arrow stuck through Happy's knee. "The location of your chest of gems. Give it to me . . . and I'll let you walk away."

"What!?" Happy sputtered. "The guys will kill me if I told you—GAHHH!" he shouted in renewed pain as Robin twisted the arrow in his knee.

"Don't try my patience," Robin said lightly with a calm smile. "I know a thing or two about torture. If you think you hurt now . . . just wait until I've finished with you," he finished in a whisper.

Happy's eyes widened. "F-Fine! In our den. B-Behind the grandfather clock. Fake wall. It's in there! I swear!"

"Thank-you," Robin said and quickly nocked an arrow. He was about to release it through Happy's skull when peals of screaming caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw people running from . . . Regina! Robin's foot slacked, and Happy managed to roll away, dragging himself across the street. Robin paid him no mind. Instead, he looked at the fine shape of his love clad in dark leather with a billowing cape behind her. The Evil Queen return-eth.

She was crossing the street towards the Sheriff's office, but she took notice of him. Stopping, she set her hand on her hip and looked him up and down. Robin lifted his bow, aiming his arrow at her heart. Her dark eyes glimmered maliciously, and the tone that slipped from those voluptuous lips almost made the word sound sinful. _"Thief."_


End file.
